We're on a Real Mission from GodAgain
by Bob Wright
Summary: Elwood thought his life was washed up. But that was before Jake came back from beyond the grave to help him on a real mission from God. Can they and an expanded Brotherhood save the world from terroristical Satan worshippers in time? NOW COMPLETED.
1. A Calling from God

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is something I've wanted to do for some time now. Technically, this story takes place roughly two years after Blues Brothers 2000, thus in the year 2000 if one wishes to use the films' release dates as markers. Elwood's around 47 years old here, and Jake's sort of 49, if one chooses to continue counting years after death.  
The Blues Brothers and all related characters and indicia are copyright trademarks of Universal City Studios, all rights reserved. All other characters and indicia are mine. And now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the story.  
  
"WE'RE ON A (REAL) MISSION FROM GOD......AGAIN"  
BY  
BOB WRIGHT  
  
ONE  
It was a brisk October evening in Chicago. Inside the Sears Tower, the night watchman was leaning back in his seat at the front desk, reading the Tribune's sports page. It was incredible, the Cubs actually being in the World Series for once, and like the rest of Chicago, he'd caught the fever. Now if the goat's curse would just go away for once....  
The sound of the front door being smashed open caught his attention. He looked up to see about two dozen guys in brown robes and hoods coming toward him. He jumped up and drew his gun. "What the hell do you guys want?" he demanded.  
"This does not concern you, mortal," hissed the apparent leader of the group, a tall man wearing a demon mask over his face. He pointed the staff he was holding at the watchman and said something that he didn't understand. He did, however, understand what happened next: a bright blast of red light shot out of the staff and hit him clean in the chest, killing him instantly.  
The leader of the group smiled at the heinous act he'd just committed. His name was Zildrohar—well, not really, but that was what the world was going to remember him by once he got through with it.  
"Brothers," he rasped to his associates, "Our time draws nigh! Spread out and find the entrance to the portal!"  
"Yes, Brother Zildrohar," his associates said monotonously and hustled for the elevators. Zildrohar climbed over the watchman's desk and placed the snake he'd been holding on the counter. "Rest yourself, Ophiuchus," he told it, "I must contact the master." He touched the screen with his staff, and seconds later, the most hideous face imaginable appeared on the monitors. "Status check!" it demanded.  
"Everything is going according to plan, Master Satan," Zildrohar told him, "We have secured the building. The portal will be opened as requested, and soon the whole world will feel your wrath."  
"Very good," the face said. Then it grew serious. "A word of caution, my slave. There is one who can bring this whole plan to ruin for us in that very city."  
"Really?" Zildrohar frowned, "Who, master, might that be?"  
  
Across town inside Joliet Prison, the prisoners were all huddled back in their cells for the night. The air was quiet, except for the lonely harmonica music coming out of C-12.......  
Elwood Blues was depressed. He always got this way this time of year for two reasons. First off, it was exactly two years ago that the law had caught him again, and sent him here to the lonely confines of Joliet for the rest of his life, without the chance for parole. And secondly, as he'd learned the last time he'd gotten out, it was in October that his brother Jake had died long ago. The loss of him stung Elwood now more than ever, now that his band had washed up again, this time for good it seemed. Jake had been the glue that had held it together, he realized now, and no retooling would ever capture the magic of the blues the two of them had made so long ago.......  
"Open C-12!" barked the voice of Warden Jim Suntzman outside. Suntzman, who bore a rather strong resemblance to Craig T. Nelson, had had a special dislike for Elwood since he'd been promoted to warden eighteen months ago, and had been rather harsh to him for seemingly no reason many a time. "Blues, on your feet, your attorney's here!" he ordered him now. He looked down and gave a rough kick to his pet German shepherd, who had almost tried to enter the cell. "How many times have I told you, Serpico, no going into cells!" he yelled at the dog, who cowered in fear.  
Elwood had seen Suntzman kick the dog around all the time, and he was getting quite tired of it frankly. "Hey warden, don't treat your pets that way!" he protested, "It's so un-Christian!"  
"My life is my business, Blues, so stay out of it!" Suntzman snarled. He turned down the hall and ordered, "Marvin, bring in Topton and Miss LaGrange." Moments later, the massive bulk of Elwood's cellmate, Rocky "The Mountain" Topton was shoved into the cell by Marvin the head guard, a featureless man born without a personality who was practically married to his rifle. Elwood had been quite unnerved by the threatening-looking Rocky when he'd learned they'd be sharing a cell, but he'd found out to his delight that Rocky not only was docile but also one of the Blues Brothers' last fans. He and his biker gang had been regular attendees at Blues Brother concerts back in the 70s and had eaten them up like they were dessert. But times had changed for the worst for Rocky too. Feeling he was too soft to lead them, his gang had framed him on multiple counts of rape and murder (at least that was what he told Elwood) and sent him up the river. He'd been sentenced to death row, and from the depressed look on his face now as he slid into his bunk, Elwood had a feeling that his cellmate's final parole hearing hadn't gone well.  
"Elwood, I've got some bad news on your parole hearing," came the voice of his attorney as she squeezed her way into the cell. Latifah LaGrange had been Elwood's attorney for the last fourteen months. A high- class black woman with the most expensive of outfits, Latifah seemed genuinely concerned about Elwood's well being, compared to all his previous attorneys, who'd only represented him for the money they could get off such a high profile prisoner. As such, Elwood had started feeling a sort of attraction toward her, deeper than he'd ever felt for another woman. "What's gone wrong with it now?" he asked her, reaching through the cell bars to give Serpico the dog a reassuring pat on the head when Suntzman wasn't looking. Serpico gave his hand a loving lick.  
"The judge turned down our request to have it moved up to next month, so the latest you can be brought up now would be next March," Latifah told him. "I'm sorry Elwood, but they just think you're too much of a menace to warrant early parole, even for good behavior."  
"Well what about the angle we said we'd go after, where the cops blew the charges out of proportion to frame me?" Elwood inquired.  
"I tried that, but I'm fighting an uphill battle with it," Latifah sighed. "We don't have any proof, and we'll need it if we want to get them with that."  
"Well good luck lady, because there's no way you'll be able to prove any of that," Marvin sniggered.  
"Hey watch yourself, Barney Fife!" Latifah shot at him, "Judging by the conditions of this cellblock, I could easily nail you and your boss here for maltreatment of prisoners. You don't give them enough.......!"  
Okay sweetheart, you've said all you need to say, now beat it," Suntzman told her, jerking his finger down the hallway. Latifah glared at him, looking like she'd be happy to take him on outside the courtroom, but shook her head and told Elwood, "I'll be back in on Sunday. See if you can think of anything else we haven't thought of."  
"Right," Elwood said. As she turned to leave, he asked, "Say Latifah, how's it goin' findin' out where the band's gone to? They still ain't visited since they locked me in here."  
"Nope," Latifah told him, "I've searched through the phone book but haven't found anything on them yet."  
"Well keep tryin'," Elwood gave her a half-hearted thumbs up.  
"Okay, close C-12," Suntzman yelled down the corridor. He dragged his dog off by the collar, whimpering all the way. Elwood turned to Rocky. "So, how'd it go for you?" he asked, half knowing what the answer would be.  
"They turned me down, Elwood," Rocky said in a barely audible voice. He turned and faced the wall. "They're going to sign my death warrant next week," he continued, "I've got a date with the lethal injection chamber in 60 days."  
"That's a shame," Elwood said, whistling at the predicament of his cellmate, "And besides, it's costing them so much to do that, too."  
"Elwood," Rocky said, far away, "Have you ever wished you could live your life over again and get it right?"  
"Every day of my life," Elwood said, feeling miserable himself now, "I wonder what would have happened if Jake had lived all the time. If we'd just taken the money Glabman gave us at the Palace Hotel and split. If we'd have a strong agent and family to back us up." He sighed a very deep sigh. "But it's no good fantasizin' about what could have been," he continued. "The past's all gone now, and as much as I'd like another chance to get it right, it ain't gonna happen, because there's no......"  
Just then, there was a blinding light above them. Elwood squinted up at it, wishing he had his dark glasses handy. "What the hell!?" he exclaimed. The light slowly took on human dimensions. Descending toward them on shining wings was.......  
"CURTIS!!??" Elwood exclaimed in awe.  
"Elwood!" his former father figure exclaimed once he landed on solid ground. The dead janitor leaned right through the cell's bars and gave Elwood a big hug, oblivious to the fact he went right through the musician.  
  
"Uh, Elwood, what's going on?" Rocky asked, a little concerned to be seeing a dead person.  
"Rock, I'd like ya to meet Curtis, he was the janitor at the orphanage Jake and me grew up in, and Cabel's dad," Elwood told him. Then he looked hesitantly at Curtis. "Uh, this is really you, ain't it? My mind ain't playin' tricks on me, because I know you're dead.  
"Oh I'm dead all right, Elwood, but I'm very real," Curtis told him, giving him a strong pat on the pat.  
"Then what brings you here?"  
"Elwood, I'm here to ask you to assist in a vitally important mission to save the world," Curtis was now solemn. He sat down on the bunk between Elwood and Rocky. "There's been a serious breach by allies of Hell, and unless we do something fast, the world's going to end horribly."  
"Uh Curtis, could you say that again in English?" Elwood asked him.  
"I guess I should start from the beginning," Curtis said. "About two hundred years ago, the Chicago area was the headquarters for a group of Satan worshippers known for their brutal tactics that called themselves Heretics Conglomerated. They would stand over their Dark Pit in the woods and release demons from Hell to rain down terror on innocent people living nearby. After a while, this got to be too much for the people, so they petitioned the Vatican for assistance. The Holy See sent them the Saint Francis de Sales Relic, a fabulous icon with amazing holy powers. And so, the night it arrived, the town priest, Father Solomon Delaney, came in disguise to the Heretics' latest meeting, at which point they were going to unleash Satan himself from the Fiery Pit. Just before the Evil One could breach the surface, Father Delaney invoked the power of the relic and sent him back to Hell. The police arrived shortly thereafter and most of the Heretics were hanged shortly thereafter."  
"Uh, nice story, Curtis, but what does it have to do with me?" Elwood was confused now.  
"Not all the Heretics were captured that night, Elwood," Curtis told him, "a few slunk off into the wilderness to continue the movement. Using their dark powers, they destroyed the Saint Francis de Sales Relic before it could be sent back to Rome and scattered its pieces to all the corners of the country. And even as we speak now, the current members of the group are planning to fulfill their ancestors' wishes and introduce this world to the devil."  
"So what am I supposed to do about this from in here, Curtis?" Elwood asked him.  
"We need to recover the pieces of the Saint Francis de Sales Relic immediately, or when the lunar eclipse on Halloween night occurs, this world will become just another extension of Hell," Curtis said.  
"But why me?" Elwood protested, "Why not get the pope to do it?"  
"As the sole surviving descendent of Solomon Delaney, it is your destiny to do it," Curtis explained. "Now I'm seeing to it that a heavenly agent is assigned to you to handle this assignment, but ultimately it's in your hands. You said you wanted a second chance, and here's God's way of granting that wish for you."  
"Yeah but Curtis, why......?" Elwood started to say, but Curtis disappeared in a blur before he could finish. The next thing Elwood knew, he could hear the other prisoners yelling, "RIOT! RIOT! RIOT!" Jerking his head toward the hall, he saw them pouring out of their cells, possessed looks on their faces. He also noticed that his own cell door was now open.  
  
"So Elwood, do the dead visit you a lot when I'm not awake?" Rocky's voice cut in. His cellmate was looking a little shaken at having seen an angel, but now seemed reenergized from when he'd first been brought into the cell a few minutes ago.  
"Nope, this is the first time, Rock," Elwood said. He looked out down the open corridor. Maybe he'd just been hallucinating, but then again, Curtis had always been straight up with him before. He thought for a minute about the proposal that had been given to him, and in a moment came to a decision.  
"Well," he announced, "if I'm the only one who can save the world, I guess I'd better get crackin' then, since it's just fourteen days to Halloween."  
"Hold up, Elwood," Rocky said suddenly, "if you're going out there, I'd like to come too."  
"Well, all good and well, Rock, but what couldja possibly do?" Elwood had to ask.  
"You forget, Elwood, that I'm a man who wants redemption as well," Rocky began, "And like the guy said, I think, Hell will take over the world, and I'm not going to spend........."  
"Okay, okay, you made your point," Elwood interrupted him. "Come on then, before the guards get wise to all this."  
  
"...and the atmosphere is charged here at the Weiss Ballroom where Republican gubernatorial candidate Burton Mercer will be delivering his address to the Lake Michigan dockworkers union," the TV announcer was saying. "Mercer, who trails incumbent Governor George Haroldson by 25 points entering the final stretch of the campaign trail, will be looking for some last-minute oomph to get his campaign rolling again after the fiasco at the steel mill last week."  
"Come on, Burt, let's take this baby home," Suntzman said, reclining back in his office chair. He and Mercer went back a long way to when they were serving together as parole officers for the Illinois Department of Corrections. Indeed, it was through Mercer's influence in his current position as DOC Chairman that Suntzman had ended up as Joliet warden. Mercer had promised him that if he won, he'd make him Attorney General with broad powers.  
Just then one of the guards stuck his head in through the door. "Uh, sir, hope I'm not disturbing you, but we've got a riot in Cellblock C," he said meekly.  
"What!?" Suntzman bolted upright, "How did this happen? What the hell are they rioting about?"  
"I don't know, but they look pretty volatile," the guard admitted.  
"All right, I'll be right over," Suntzman got up and picked up the megaphone from behind his desk. "No no, you stay put!" he shouted at Serpico the dog as it rose to follow him, "I can handle this without you!" He stamped on its tail cruelly to get his point across before storming out. He left the door open though, and the dog, after apparently weighing its options for a moment, got up and hustled out the door in the opposite direction.  
In Cellblock C, Suntzman strode up to where the riot was taking place. They were pouring into the cafeteria area, continuing to chant, "RIOT! RIOT! RIOT!" at the top of their lungs. "Let me give them an ultimatum first," he told the other guards nearby, who had their rifles cocked and ready to fire. He raised the megaphone to his lips as he walked up to the railing overlooking the cafeteria. "Now hear this!" he barked down at the prisoners, "You have till three to get back to your cells, or you get a thunderstorm of lead unleashed on you! One, two........!"  
But before he could give the signal to open fire, the prisoners abruptly stopped and shuffled slowly back to their cells. Suntzman frowned. "What the hell was that all about?" he asked no one in particular.  
"Maybe it was the chili we served tonight at dinner," one guard theorized.  
Just then Marvin came running up. "Sir, we can't find Blues or Topton!" he gasped breathlessly.  
"What do you mean you can't find them!?" Suntzman bellowed.  
"They're not in their cells, and we can't find them in the mob," Marvin explained.  
Suntzman put his hand to his head. Of the two prisoners he least wanted to see escaping, Elwood and Rocky were at the top of his list. "Well, don't just stand there, men!" he shouted at the guards, "Spread out and find them, now!" 


	2. The Return of Joliet Jake

TWO  
"I hope they put our stuff in alphabetical order," Elwood asided to Rocky as they entered the prison's storage area. Boxes were stacked everywhere.  
"No need to worry Elwood," Rocky held up a large box labeled ELWOOD J. D. BLUES and tossed it at his cellmate. "Good work," Elwood told him. He tore open the box and pulled out a small control capsule. He pressed the large red button on top. From outside in the impound yard, the sound of an engine starting burst the silence. Elwood started turning the small silvery wheel on the capsule.  
"So what are you doing now?" Rocky asked him, hefting his own box.  
"Summoning the Bluesmobile," Elwood told him, "Open the window."  
"Right," Rocky strolled over to the window and kicked it open. "Here it comes!" he exclaimed as the much-renowned Bluesmobile slowly inched its way into view below.  
"Hold it right there you two!" came the voice of Warden Suntzman. The two men turned to find themselves face to face with at least a dozen guards, their rifles aimed at the convicts. Suntzman stepped forward out of them. "All right you two," he began smugly, "Come along quietly and we won't....."  
Just then, Suntzman was toppled to the floor. Serpico had knocked him down. The dog then placed himself between his master and the prisoners and barked loudly, enough to send most of the guards running for the exit.  
  
"Serpico, get the hell out of my way!" Suntzman shouted, swiping at his dog. Serpico responded by biting him hard on the hand. Suntzman howled in pain and hopped backwards.  
"I think that's our cue to get goin'," Elwood said to Rocky. His cellmate nodded, and the two of them jumped out the window, boxes in hand. Serpico watched them go and jumped out the window after them.  
"So you're comin' too?" Elwood asked the dog once he'd realized it had followed him. He thought over the pros and cons of having a dog with him, then nodded and said, "Sure, why not, after what he put you through in there." He pulled a trigger on his console that opened all of the Bluesmobile's doors.  
"Blues, Topton, get back here with my dog!" Suntzman shouted after them. Marvin ran up to the window and starting firing away with his rifle at the infamous car as the two cons jumped in it and sped out. "Save your ammo, Marvin," Suntzman told him, pushing the rifle down.  
"So what do we do now, sir?" Marvin asked him.  
"Call Burt and tell him that I need his help on this ASAP," Suntzman said.  
"But he's in the middle of the........" Marvin began.  
"Just call him!" Suntzman snapped.  
"Right away sir," Marvin ran off. Suntzman glanced up the road after the Bluesmobile. "Don't think you can get away from me, Blues, because I don't give up easy," he said toward it.  
  
"For the past four years, George Haroldson has raised tariffs and taxes, making life hard for decent, hardworking people like yourselves," Burton Mercer announced to the dockworkers assembled before him in the Weiss Ballroom, "Well, put me in power, and I'll see to it that none of that happens to you. No way I'm going to make any hikes, or anything like that."  
In the audience, one of the dockworkers sniggered to another, "Who's he kidding? Haroldson hasn't done any of the things he's accused him of. This guy's campaign's a joke."  
"I know," the other dockworker said, "When he going to wake up and smell the coffee that he's an idiot?"  
"And I'll see to it," Mercer continued, thumping his fist on the pulpit he was standing behind, oblivious to the nay saying in the audience, "That Illinois becomes the best state in the whole union, with better security, better job rates, and a better lifestyle as a whole."  
Behind Mercer, his consorts, Illinois Highway Patrol Captains Steve Daniel and Charles Mount, exchanged hesitant glances. Their boss had shot himself in the foot so many times already in the campaign that it wasn't funny anymore, and now he was doing it yet again.  
"Repeat after me, Haroldson out, Mercer in!" Mercer said in one final burst of energy. The applause was sporadic. Mercer, however, soaked it all up. "Thank you, God bless Illinois!" he shouted as he bowed to the crows and shuffled offstage.  
"Very nice Mr. Mercer, well done," Mount said sarcastically as they headed for the dressing rooms.  
"Thanks, Mount," Mercer said, again not seeing the signs.  
"Uh Mr. Mercer," Seymour Greensburg, Mercer's campaign manager, ran up with papers in his hand. An ultra-nerd, with horn-rimmed glasses and a checkered tuxedo, Seymour had been brought on board basically because he was the only guy in the Chicago Republican party who wanted to work with Mercer. "I've got the latest poll results," he continued, showing Mercer the papers he was holding, "I'm afraid it doesn't look good. Haroldson's starting to pull away from us."  
"Well don't hit the panic button just yet, Seymour; a lot can be done in a week. Hey there Ness," Mercer entered the back dressing room and leaned down to pet his Doberman pincer, who'd been waiting for him.  
"Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, we're going to need a miracle to pull this one off," Seymour admitted.  
"Mr. Mercer, Jim Suntzman's on line one for you," Mercer's secretary told him.  
"Thanks Debbie," Mercer picked up the nearest phone. "Hi Jim, what's shaking at Joliet?" he asked his old friend. His expression went wild. "You don't say!" he exclaimed. "Well don't worry; I'll get on it right away." He hung up the phone with vigor. "Gentlemen," he announced to everyone present, "You won't believe what just happened!"  
"Marshall Fields withdrew their funding?" Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.  
"Nope," Mercer told him, "We just got our big break. Elwood Blues just escaped from prison again!"  
"That turkey's still alive?" Mount seemed surprised he was.  
"Yep, and you all remember how bad he was the last time we faced off," Mercer said. "This is just what we needed. We can attack Haroldson by saying that under him the prisoner holding system is flawed enough to allow someone like Blues to escape. And then we track him down ourselves and make ourselves look like heroes."  
"Can we do that, sir?" Seymour asked.  
"Seymour, this is big league politics, anything goes," Mercer told him, "surely you know that?"  
"Um, well, of course sir, but....."  
"But nothing," Mercer said. "Now get in touch with the guys in publicity and tell them I want anti-Blues ads ASAP. And call the boys in the Defense Department; I think we could use there help on this one."  
"Uh sir, do you really think the federal government would be needed for something like this?" Seymour asked.  
"Oh yeah, Elwood J. Blues is no ordinary convict, right guys?" Mercer asked Daniel and Mount. The troopers nodded emphatically.  
"Well OK, if you say so," Seymour scurried off. Mercer scratched Ness between the ears. "Well pal," he told the Doberman, "It looks like the field's setting up for a late charge by the underdog...no offense."  
  
Elwood pulled the Bluesmobile over to the curb and dumped his and Rocky's prison uniforms into a trash receptacle. It felt good to be back in the old Blues Brother suit again.  
"I never thought I'd have the honor of actually riding in this thing," Rocky commented from the passenger seat. He was dressed in the black leather biker outfit he'd been wearing when he'd been busted.  
"Well it ain't the original, but it does well," Elwood told him.  
There was the sound of his harmonica from the backseat. Serpico had found it inside his briefcase. "Hey don't mess with that!" Elwood warned him, "That's priceless!"  
Serpico began blowing on the harmonica. Amazingly, he was playing an almost perfect rendition of "Piano Man." Elwood whistled in surprise. "Ya know somethin', Serp, you've got a knack for that," he commented.  
"Hey, if we ever put the band back together, he could be front dog," Rocky chuckled.  
"Maybe," Elwood shrugged. He gave the dog a lovingly pat on the bridge of his nose. "We really ought to give him a new name, to get him away from his time in the prison," he told Rocky.  
"How about Steppenwolf?" Rocky suggested.  
"Too long," Elwood said. "I was thinkin' something more along the lines of 'Armstrong.'"  
"Why Armstrong?"  
"Well, Jake and I always liked it when Curtis played his records for us when we was kids, so I figure it would be a good tribute," Elwood explained.  
Rocky shrugged. "Okay then, Armstrong it is," he said. He gave the dog a patting of his own. The newly christened Armstrong licked his face. "So Elwood, when do you think that heavenly agent that Curtis guy was talking about'll show up?" he asked his buddy.  
"Who knows?" Elwood shrugged, "God works in mysterious ways. He could wait...."  
Just then there was another blinding holy flash from the Bluesmobile's back seat. Armstrong yelped in terror and jumped under the seat. Soon the light settled into its human form. "Hi Elwood," said..........  
"JAKE!!!????" Elwood was overcome with joy at the sight of his brother again. He half jumped over the seat and gave him a hug, oblivious to the fact that, as with Curtis back in the jail cell, his arms went right through him. The Bluesmobile, with no one driving it, swerved up onto the sidewalk and totaled a mailbox. "Careful!" Rocky yelled, grabbing the wheel and swerving back into the street.  
"Sorry," Elwood said sheepishly. "Rock, this is my brother, 'Joliet' Jake."  
"Pleasure to meet you, Topton," Jake gave Rocky's hand a vigorous (sort of) shaking. He dug out a cigarette and lit up. "Well, Curtis brought me up to speed on what he told you guys, so I guess I'd better fill you in on the rest," he continued. "We've got fourteen days to find and reassemble the St. Francis de Sales Relic, take it to the Dark Pit....."  
"Where is this Dark Pit, anyway?" Elwood asked him.  
"They built the Sears Tower over it, so we'll have to take the relic to the very top of the structure, plant it at the lip of the pit, and say the holy incantation," Jake explained.  
"And what is the holy incantation, Jake?"  
"You'll find out when you start doing it, and not before," Jake told him. "Now two of the pieces of the relic are here in Chicago, and we'll pick them up tomorrow. By fate of luck, one of them happens to be in the hands of our old friend Reverend Cleophus James, and we'll get that one first. It has a cybertelegenic impulse in it that will help me track down the next piece, and that will lead me to the next, and so on."  
"Wait a minute, cybertele-what?" Elwood asked.  
"It's a holy imprinting; only angels can sense it," Jake explained. "Now I know the rough estimate locations of the other pieces of the Relic. One's in the East, one's down South, and one's out West. But I'll only get a firm trace on them as we assemble the preceding pieces. And on top of that, I've got the perfect cover for our operations."  
"What?" Rocky asked.  
Jake leaned in very close to them. "We put the band back together for good," he said triumphantly.  
"Well that would be great, Jake, but I have no clue how we're going to convince them to come back after the last fiasco," Elwood said tentatively.  
"Don't worry about that, Elwood; when I get through with them, they'll be practically begging to come back," Jake said confidently. "And on top of that, I'll even take that sorry group of pretenders you recruited last time out and turn them into a lean, mean blues machine free of charge."  
"Well I wouldn't call them a sorry group of pretenders,...." Elwood began, but then thought it over and conceded, "Yeah, they are, aren't they?"  
"And after I do that, we're going to add the one key ingredient to the band that we haven't had before," Jake went on.  
"What's that?" Elwood asked  
"Zee Papageorge."  
"Who?"  
"My brother."  
"Brother?" Elwood was confused now.  
"My natural brother, that is," Jake told him. "You see, my mother Artesia Papageorge had him about two years before she had me, then left him up for adoption just before I was born. Just like you and Cabel, he has no idea that I'm related to him. At least before I tell him tomorrow. He sings a wicked cut, and I just know he'll fit in quite well. And plus, you guys were right a minute ago. Armstrong here'll make a great harmonica player," he magically produced a bone from up his sleeve and handed it to Armstrong, who gobbled it up greedily.  
"How'd you do that?" Rocky was impressed.  
"My holy powers are heavily invested in me," Jake said with pride. "And as long as I recharge them in a church every twenty-four hours, I can do basically anything for the cause of good that I want."  
"Oh, so you're kind of like the Green Lightbulb, then?" Elwood asked.  
  
"It's Green Lantern, Elwood, but yes, that's basically how it goes," Jake said. He now pulled out a bottle of wine and took a swig. "They let you drink that stuff in heaven?" Rocky asked.  
"It's non-alcoholic, so we don't do anything stupid, but other than that, we get all the beer we want, and best of all, it's free, so I don't have to worry about country and western guys chasing after me," Jake gave Elwood a wink.  
"Well, I guess I'll let you two catch up with old times," Rocky said, sliding over to his seat in the passenger seat, "Wake me up when it's sunrise."  
"Gotcha," Elwood told him. He looked back at Jake with great affection—affection he'd never known he'd had in a long time. Jake noticed this. "What?" he asked.  
"All those nights I spent, hopin' and prayin' that maybe I'd see ya again, I can't believe they actually came true," Elwood said softly.  
"Hey, don't think I wasn't aware of those prayers," Jake said. "I was hoping to show myself to you eventually, and I'm glad that time came sooner than later. And I promise you, once this is all over and we've saved the world, I am going to make the Blues Brothers into the world class act that you and I always dreamed it would be."  
"You sure about that, Jake?"  
"Since when have I steered you wrong, Elwood?"  
"Well, there was that woman that kept stalking us during the...."  
"Well, besides that," Jake said quickly. He pointed out the window. "Turn left here. I know where we can spend the night."  
  
"There you see...," the face of Satan told Zildrohar as he watched the Blues Brothers on the central monitor, "...are your enemies. Do not let them succeed, or thy head will be staked to the gate of the 6th circle!"  
"Do not worry, Master Satan, they will suffer a worse pain than they can possibly imagine before they even get close to stopping us," Zildrohar told him with resolve.  
"See to it that is the case," Satan told him. "There are many people, both up there and down here, who would want nothing better than to see them rubbed out as much as we do. Use them well."  
"I will, Master," Zildrohar saluted his Dark Lord as the screen went dark. He picked up his snake and stroked it. "Ophiuchus," he told it, "I think we're going to need to commit everything to cause this time." 


	3. Finding Brother Zee and Mighty Mack

THREE  
"Gooooooooooooooood morning Skyview Nursing Home!" Zee Papageorge bellowed into his microphone, "I'm Mr. Zee here with your total 50s review, so just sit back, relax, and relive the old times you used to know. Hit it boys!"  
His band—or at least the remnants of it that hadn't walked out on him already—struck up a strong but half-hearted chorus of "Rock Around the Clock." Neither Paul "the Shiv" Shaffer on piano, Steve "Getdwa" Jordan on drums, or Tom "Triple Scale" Scott on saxophone, really looked like they wanted to be playing a morning show at a nursing home, and Zee—whom many people confused with Jim Belushi, whom he bore an almost frightening similarity to—couldn't really blame them. But it was the only place that would take him. The old people whom he'd hoped would have like to have heard oldie music weren't too happy either; many of them immediately began yelling taunts to the extent of, "Get off the stage, whippersnapper. Indeed, from where Zee was standing, the only guy in the lounge who seemed to like what he was hearing was the guy in the back of the room with the hat and dark glasses who was snapping along to the lackluster beat and looking like he'd discovered a gold mine.  
Abruptly, the power to the microphone went out. "Hey, who pulled the plug!?" Zee yelled out loud.  
"I did!" shouted an old lady who looked well over a hundred. She zoomed around to the front of the stage in her electric wheelchair and tossed the mike cable into Zee's face. "Go back to flipping burgers, dipstick!" she hissed and him and zoomed toward the exit. Most of the rest of the old people did the same, some complaining to their nurses about why they'd been made to sit through an act like this.  
On stage, Jordan threw down his drumsticks in frustration. "That's it!" he snapped to Zee, "I've had it! I'm resigning!"  
"But I'm paying you guys overtime for this!" Zee protested, although he had a feeling they weren't interested in hearing this.  
"You can pay us double overtime, Zee, and it ain't going to change the fact that we have to keep playing in dumps like this!" Scott said, tossing down his sax, "So until you're ready to find better facilities, you'll have to find a new band!"  
"That makes three of us," Shaffer neatly closed the piano case and sauntered off stage. "Sorry Zee, but I'm one cat who needs a strong home to dig in, "he told his now ex-boss as he headed for the exit.  
"Oh come on Shiv, cut me some slack here, it's not like I.....doh!" Zee groaned as the last remnants of his band slammed the door behind him. He slugged one of the drum's cymbals in frustration. Music had always been his life, but he'd never seemed be able to get out of the minors of the musical world, even after change his music style four times over the last three years to try and find an audience.  
"Excuse me, Zee Papageorge?" came a voice behind him. Zee turned to face the man in the hat and dark glasses, who now was the only person left in the room. "You're not with security, are you?" he asked, expecting to be hauled off the premises.  
"Nope, I'm here to offer you a chance of a lifetime," the man said, patting him on the shoulder, "I've seen your stuff, and really, you're quite good. You just don't have the direction and drive you need to get over the top."  
"So tell me something I don't know," Zee sighed. "Would you happen to be with a record company?"  
"No, but I am a representative of the finest rhythm and blues band in the world, and I'd like to formally invite you to join our numbers," the man told him, "Along with them, you can find a place to fit in and let the musical talents God gave you come to fruition."  
"Well that's nice, pal, but what's the catch?" Zee had had unpleasant dealings with agents in the past.  
"The only catch is that you have to help us on a mission from God. Other than that, just sing as your heart desires, and let the blues roll," the man said.  
"Mission from God?" Zee had never heard that one before, "What does that entail?"  
"We're out to save humanity," the man told him.  
Zee chuckled. "Blues music'll save the world? And I thought rock and roll was...."  
"So you're in, then?" the man extended his hand. Zee thought it over for a minute, then shook the hand and said, "What the hell, it's better than nothing."  
"That's the attitude, brother," the man smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make two phone calls. He closed his right fist, and when he opened them, Zee noticed he had two quarters in his palm. "Hey, that's a great trick!" he exclaimed, "How'd you do that?"  
"The power of God," the man said, scurrying off to the phone on the far wall. He dropped the first of the quarters in the slot and dialed a number. "Elwood, I've got Zee on board," he told the contact at the other end, "You're going to love him, he plays a great rhythm. Well, I told you last night that great music flows strong in the Papageorge family. No, I think we'll just be getting the lead singer today; we'll assemble the band tomorrow and get cracking on the relic tomorrow night. No, I told you I'd only find out where that would be after we get the Sacred Heart Ruby from Reverend James. You just do your part and I'll do mine. Right, talk to you then."  
"Uh, sir?" Zee tapped the man on the shoulder, "What were saying about music in the Papageorge family? My family died when I was little and I grew up in...."  
"I know," the man said, "but I used to be your family. We just didn't know it."  
"What are you talking about?" Zee was confused and a little scared now.  
"Zee," the man advanced toward him, "I'm your dead brother Jake." He lowered his dark glasses to reveal there was a brilliant light shining in his eyes—so brilliant in fact that Zee, upon seeing the presence of God directly, fainted dead away on the floor. Jake put his glasses back into place. "I had a feeling he was going to do that," he said to himself, then shrugged and inserted the second quarter into the phone. "Bowe, Lisella and Bowe, Attorneys at Law?" he asked the next person he called, "Yeah, could you get me Latifah LaGrange, please?"  
  
"Agent Orange, General Storrs, thank you so much for coming," Mercer told his contacts at the FBI and Army as they filed into the Department of Corrections conference room.  
"Pleasure's all ours, Burt," Agent Orange told him, adjusting his tie. He'd only recently been appointed to such a high position in the FBI, but considered it an honor, as he'd replaced the man who'd managed to bring in Elwood the last time out. General Storrs, a three-star general bearing a strong resemblance to the Hulk's nemesis General Ross, was new at the whole capturing convicts game, but as he'd spent an illustrious career on the battlefield, he considered what Mercer was now offering him a good escape from Desk Job Purgatory that officers of his age and rank frequently got.  
"If you'll take your seats, gentlemen, we'll try and make this as brief as possible," Mercer said, gesturing to the conference table before them. He nodded to Captain Daniel, who closed the door. "Now the reason I called you guys here is because I have a really hard guy on the loose," he told them, strolling to the front of the room. "Lights please," he called to Captain Mount, who flicked them off. "First slide, Ness," the DOC chairman told his dog, who clicked the slide projector with his mouth. A mug shot of Elwood appeared on the screen. "Gentlemen, this is the enemy: Elwood J.D. Blues," Mercer told the others. "He's racked up over four hundred traffic violations over the course of his life, and committed numerous crimes along the way, not to mention endangering the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. He's always dangerous, and we need your help to bring him in. He tends to hang out with these people," he snapped his fingers at Ness, who advanced to the next slide. "Mack McTier, former bartender and member of his new Blues Brothers Band," he snapped his fingers again, "Buster, orphan and minor, who he kidnapped and forced to join his band," another snap, "And the IHP's own Lieutenant Commander Cabel Chamberlain, who we had to put through serious psychoanalysis to get him back to normal after they brainwashed him. We should also be on the lookout for these guys," he was clicked ahead one more slide, "The 'famous' Blues Brothers Band. Are there any questions?"  
"Uh, yeah Burt; why do you need us when you can so readily do this yourself?" General Storrs asked.  
"Good question, my good general, and the answer is that Elwood Blues is such a menace that we alone can't bring him in, so we need the assistance of you guys higher up. If I remember correctly, he couldn't have been brought in last time without the friendly help of the FBI," Mercer smiled fondly at Agent Orange.  
"Then why should I spend my valuable time gallivanting through Chicago when my command could be doing something more important to national security?" General Storrs asked, "I mean, we're not meant for street fighting."  
"Hmm, I think I have a good reason with me right here, give me second," Mercer dug through his tuxedo pockets, "Ah, here we are," he pulled out five $100 bills and handed them to General Storrs. The general stared at them for a moment, and then smiled and shook Mercer's hand, saying, "Good enough for me. I'll tell my men to report here tomorrow at 1000 hours for briefing."  
"And I'll have my associates here about two hours after that," Agent Orange told Mercer.  
"In that case, gentlemen, drive carefully, and I'll see you tomorrow at lunch," Mercer shook their hands in closing as Captain Daniel opening the door for them. Captain Mount flicked the lights back on. "Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, I really don't think we should have bribed them right now," he told his boss.  
"Oh lighten up, Captain; what nobody has to know won't hurt them," Mercer said with mock indignation.  
"Sir, I know we've become used to bribing everybody in the state of Illinois, but to take it to the national level during a major campaign is, well, very dangerous," Captain Daniel piped up. "Governor Haroldson has his ways of finding out information like this, you know."  
"Don't worry about it, Captain, shortly we'll have Elwood Blues back in custody and nobody will be the wiser," Mercer rolled the slide screen back up. "Come on, Ness, it's snack time," he told his dog as he led him out of the conference room.  
"Oh, need I mention that if you hadn't dragged us off to that stupid police convention in Houston, we would have caught Blues the last time he was out of prison?" Captain Mount complained as he and Captain Daniel followed Mercer out.  
"Oh will you stop complaining about the convention, Mount, that was a great weekend," Mercer retorted, "We even got to actually zap people with mace, now wasn't that fun!?"  
  
"Mighty Mack McTier, Birthday Clown for Hire," Elwood read off the sign on the side of his friend's van. He turned Rocky and shook his head in despair. The two of them and Armstrong, whom Elwood had clothed in an old Blues Brothers outfit he'd had on himself, including sunglasses, walked over to the window of the house they'd traced Mack to. Peering inside, they saw Mack in a hideous clown suit trying to create a balloon animal for about two dozen kids sitting on the floor. He failed miserably and popped the balloons, however. As the kids booed him, he rushed over to the table of magic props he'd set up and went through some spiel about the pitcher of water and handkerchief he was holding. He then poured the water on top of the handkerchief, but instead of staying on top of it, as he'd probably hoped it would, it went right through the handkerchief and splattered all over the rug, clearly angering the mother keeping watch nearby. The kids now lost it and swarmed all over Mack, toppling him to the floor and hitting him without restraint.  
"That's our cue," Elwood told Rocky. Rocky nodded, and they walked over to the front door and rang the bell. The mother threw it open violently. "What the hell do you want!?" she bellowed.  
"Uh, m'am, we're here to talk to the clown," Elwood told her.  
"Right this way, "the mother waved them in. "Mr. McTier has some friends, kids, so why don't we let him talk to them and play pin the tail on the donkey?" she told her wards. The kids cheered at this suggestion and ran off into the kitchen.  
"Elwood, what are you doing here?" Mack seemed surprised to see his old friend again.  
"Mack, we're on a mission from God," Elwood told him, "We're puttin' the band back together and we need ya."  
"Here's your pay," the mother slapped a mere two dollars into Mack's hand, "And don't bother coming around here again, because you are a sad excuse for a clown!"  
"OK, so I'm not Emmett Kelly, so sue me!" Mack shot back, "But I deserve more than two dollars!"  
"What you deserve is to be shown the door, so there it is, and get going!" the mother jerked her finger toward the door.  
"Sorry about that, Elwood, but business has been real slow lately, and I'm just barely breaking even with this whole business," Mack admitted as they went outside, not even bothering to collect his clown props. "Did you say you were putting the band back together?"  
"Yep, and we'll need your dulcet tones to make it sound better," Elwood told him. "Here's our new partner, Rocky "the Mountain" and Armstrong the Blues Dog.  
"Hey, how's the world's first Blues Dog?" Mack stroked Armstrong's fur, "What does he do?"  
"He backs me up on harmonica."  
"Interesting, that should be a good gimmick," Mack turned to Rocky. "What about him? Can he sing?"  
"Of course he can sing, Mack; do ya think I'd just grab some huffy off the street who looked good?" Elwood pointed out.  
"Well I'll vouch for the last part," Mack surveyed Rocky's long hair and beard, 'But anyway, sure I'll join you again. I really didn't like being a clown anyway."  
"Good," Elwood said, "get your stuff together. We're meetin' Jake at Triple Rock Evangelical in three hours."  
"Who's Jake?" Mack asked.  
"You remember my brother, and how I talked about him all the time? He's back from the dead, and he needs our help for a vitally important holy mission."  
Mack couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "Okay, we'll meet him in three hours then," he said, shooting Rocky a wink. Rocky frowned at him.  
"He's real, ya know," Elwood gave Mack a disapproving glance. "And before we go, gimme your clown suit. I need some way to get through to Cab without lookin' conspicuous." 


	4. Split a Brother, Lose Another

FOUR  
"So let me get this straight. You're my dead brother, and your trying to save the world, and you need me for it?" Zee asked Jake as they pulled up in front of Triple Rock Evangelical Church.  
"That's exactly right," Jake said, hopping out onto the curb, "and we've got only thirteen days to do it. Starting right here."  
He knocked on the church's door. Moments later, Reverend Cleophus James stuck out his head. "May I help you?" he asked.  
"Reverend James, I do believe you saw a vision in your dreams last night," Jake informed him, lowering his shades to show him the power of God again. Reverend James bowed reverently. "So you have come for what was requested?" he asked the angel.  
"Yep," Jake said, "the Sacred Heart Ruby, please."  
"Run by me what the Sacred Heart Ruby is again?" Zee asked.  
"The Sacred Heart Ruby is the frontispiece of the St. Francis de Sales Relic," Jake explained, "it is through it that the power of the Lord Our God flows when the Relic is invoked. Apart from the crystal cross in the relic which is imbibed with timbers from the True Cross, the ruby is the most important piece of the Relic."  
"Okay," Zee nodded slowly, unsure what to make of all this, "Either this is really a big heavenly thing, or I had way too much to drink last night."  
"Trust me, what I'm telling you is perfectly real," Jake said, flashing a smile.  
Reverend James returned, clutching something red in his hand. "Here you go, Holy One," he said, handing it to Jake. "The Sacred Heart Ruby," Jake said, holding it up for Zee to see. Zee gazed deep into the ruby and once again became aware of something holy and divine. "Whoa," he exclaimed.  
"I have two more requests from you, reverend," Jake told Reverend James, "First of all, I seek permission to recharge my powers inside your church, and secondly, I ask you on all subsequent Sundays leading up to Halloween to get your congregation to pray for the safety of the world. Doing this will at least negate some of the powers of the Satanic forces that may soon engulf the earth."  
"My church is yours," Reverend James waved Jake inside.  
"Thank you," Jake patted him on the back. He turned to Zee and said, "Stay here. Recharging is not for mortal eyes to see."  
"No problem," Zee gave him the OK signal. He shook his head as Jake went inside, wondering what this all entailed in the long run.  
In the middle of the aisle, Jake knelt down before the altar. "Holy Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I bow before Thee, give me what I need to serve thy purpose for today," he prayed. At that moment, a radiant beam of light shot down threw the stained-glass window above him onto the cross, which began glowing with charged energy. Jake extended a hand outward, and energy bolted outward from it into his fingers. Jake howled in delight as the enlightenment he was receiving surged through every inch of his body. Electricity shot off out of his sides, destroying several pews, to his non- noticing. Outside, Zee cringed at the sight of the electricity crackling inside the church. "I hope I don't have to do that after I die," he said to himself.  
Finally, after about a minute of recharging, the holy powers died down. Jake nodded to the cross and strolled out. "Well, phase one of our mission has been accomplished," he told Zee, "and now I know where the next part of the Relic is."  
"Where?" Zee asked him.  
"Below a club on the North Side called the Crocodile Rock Cafe," Jake told him. "This works out beautifully for my plan of putting the band back together.  
"So what do we do now?"  
"We wait here for my brother to show up with the rest of the band," Jake told him, "Which, barring complications, should be in less than a half hour or so."  
  
"Excuse me, birthday clown coming through," Elwood weaved his way through the cops at the 58th precinct. Being among so many officers of the law made him rather nervous, but he considered it a necessary evil to get through to Cabel, even in this stupid clown suit. He saw his office at the far corner of the squad room and started for it.  
"Excuse me sir," came the voice of Cabel's adjutant, Lieutenant Eliozar from his right, "Do you have a reason to be visiting the Lieutenant Commander?"  
"Um, uh, yeah, I'm uh, here to wish him a happy birthday," Elwood said quickly.  
"But his birthday's not for another three months."  
"I know, um, we, uh, decided we'd give him a little somethin' ahead of time, just to show him how much we at BirthdayWorld care for him," Elwood explained, hopping it sounded reasonable. Lieutenant Eliozar thought this over for a minute, then nodded and waved him inside. Cabel was over by the window, adjusting some Halloween decorations. "Hey Cab," Elwood addressed him.  
"Elwood?" Cabel spun at the familiar voice, "Why the hell are you wearing that dumb suit?"  
"Cab, I'm puttin' the band back together again, and we need ya to help us," Elwood told him.  
Cabel sighed. "You know, Elwood, I'd really love to, but I really can't. My superiors have kept a close eye on me ever since they brought you in, and they'd kick me out for good if I left again."  
"Well this is kinda more important than any job you might hold; ya see, the world's gonna become the devil's playground unless we can find and reassemble this holy relic," Elwood tried to sway him, "And the last thing I want to see is the world end..." he failed to see the cherry picker rising up outside with a hooded Heretic on board. This man pulled out a wand of some kind and pointed it at Cabel. "AGITATO!!" he hissed.  
Inside, Cabel immediately became quite beregerent. "What makes you'd think I'd even go around with a low-life punk like you again!?" he snarled, grabbing Elwood by the collar and shaking him violently. "Because of you, I got demoted, I've lost all respect from my superiors, and I have you to blame for it!" he roared.  
"Uh, would it help if I said I was sorry?" Elwood asked pitifully. Cabel simply bellowed in rage and tried to choke him to death.  
Back at Triple Rock Evangelical, Jake's head perked up. "Uh oh!" he exclaimed.  
"What?" Zee asked.  
"I'll be right back," Jake zipped off at the speed of light before Zee could get another word in. In seconds he'd arrived just outside Cabel's window. Seeing the situation inside, he pointed his finger at Cabel. "Pacifica!" he shouted. Immediately, Cabel dropped Elwood to the floor and smiled nicely. "Like I said, I'd be happy to join up with you again." He said.  
"Huh?" Elwood was now totally confused.  
"AGITATO!!" shouted the Heretic outside. Cabel picked Elwood back up and started strangling him again. Jake lunged at the Heretic and started slugging him. "PACIFICA!" he yelled. Cabel dropped Elwood once more and patted him on the shoulder. Jake and the Heretic continued to shout out the magic words as they whaled away at each other, and as he switched back and forth from angry to content repeatedly, Cabel started shaking violently and looked like he was going to divide clean down the middle. Finally, as the shouting reached a crescendo, Cabel simply slit in two with a loud crack of thunder. Elwood tumbled over to the corner. Looking up, he was surprised to see two Cabels before him now, one in police uniform and the other in a Blues Brothers suit. Outside, Jake and the Heretic looked surprised at what had just happened. Jake recovered first and slugged the Heretic clean off the cherry picker. He morphed himself through the window. "Oh damn, I'd hoped it wouldn't have come to this!" he said dismally.  
"What the hell just happened, Jake?" Elwood asked his brother.  
"He was trying to tap into Cabel's negative feelings for you to use against you," Jake explained, "And I tried to use the positive feelings for you to counteract it, but apparently we both got carried away and split him into both good and evil entities."  
"Is that good or bad?" Elwood had to know.  
"It's neither, but now unfortunately one of these two personalities will have to win out, and we can't afford that battle to take place right now, because his evil self is stronger right now," Jake picked up the still unconscious good Cabel and took Elwood by the hand. "Hold on tight," he said, and together they leaped out the window to the Bluesmobile below.  
"So what the hell happened up there?" Rocky asked Elwood as they rushed up to the car and tossed the prostrate good Cabel into the back seat with Armstrong.  
"It's a little long to explain right now," Elwood said hopping in the driver's seat, "This is Jake by the way."  
"So you're the famous Joliet Jake," Mack said with more than a little skepticism in his voice.  
"That's me, McTier, now get in and let me push," Jake closed the door behind him, ran to the back of the Bluesmobile and starting pushing it up the road at the speed of sound. Elwood couldn't believe how they were able to go so fast and not hit anyone or anything. A mere ten seconds later, they pulled up in front of Triple Rock Evangelical. And someone else was waiting for them there besides Zee....  
"Elwood!" came Latifah's rather stern voice. Elwood jumped a bit at the sound of it. "What're you doin' here, Latifah?" he asked her.  
"Why did you escape, Elwood!?" Latifah demanded, "By doing this, you've just ruined any leverage we might have had. Come with me, I'm taking you back."  
"But we're on a mission from God!" Elwood protested.  
"I don't care what your excuse is this time, I have to turn you in!" Latifah insisted.  
Jake stepped in front of her. "You will not turn Elwood in," he said, waving his hand in front of her like Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
"I will not turn Elwood in," Latifah said, trance-like.  
"You will book the Blues Brothers Band into the Crocodile Rock Café for tomorrow night."  
"I will book the Blues Brothers Band into the Crocodile Rock Café for tomorrow night.  
"And you're wearing my underwear."  
"And I'm wearing your underwear." Elwood shot Jake a look at this one. "I just had to do it," Jake chuckled, then waved Latifah off with, "You'll be going now."  
"I'll be going now," Latifah climbed into her Cadillac and drove off.  
  
"So Jake, where'd you learn the Force?" Mack asked him with a laugh.  
  
"Psycho-hypnotism, it's a standard angelic feature," Jake explained. Noticing Zee standing nearby, he said, "I think it's time you all met my blood brother. Zee Papageorge, ,meet my other brother Elwood Blues and the Blues Brothers.  
"Pleasure," Elwood said, shaking Zee's hand, "I'm Elwood, this is Rocky the Mountain, Mighty Mack, and Armstrong the Blues Dog. And out cold in the back's Cabel."  
"Uh, nice to meet you all," Zee said. "Um, Jake was saying you were going to perform tomorrow night?"  
"We've locked up the first piece of the Relic, Elwood," Jake showed him the Sacred Heart Ruby, "And the second's at the Crocodile Rock Café on the North Side. Now all we have to do is round up your little friend and we'll be all set to get the Band itself.  
"Well ya know, Jake, we'll haveta go through the Penguin to get to Buster," Elwood informed him.  
"Ah, she doesn't scare me anymore," Jake scoffed, "Come on, let's go get him.  
  
About a half hour later, Elwood found himself knocking hesitantly on the door of Mother Mary Stigmata's office. "Enter!" she ordered. Elwood slipped inside. "Uh, Mother, I..." he began. Mother Stigmata immediately grabbed her stick and hit him in the head. "Ow, what was that for!?" he shouted, "I didn't even say anything yet, damn it!"  
Mother Stigmata hit him again, this time on the shoulder. "How dare you come back here Elwood Blues, after everything you did to brainwash poor innocent little Buster!" she bellowed.  
"Yeah, well, uh, that was just a little misunderstanding..." Elwood tried to say, but Mother Stigmata hit him again on the shoulder. "Cut it out you fat Penguin!" he yelled, bringing about a half dozen hits in quick succession. It was then that Jack came into the office. "My dear Penguin, I ask you on the order of God to ease up on Elwood here," he told her. "Nice try, Elwood," Mother Stigmata snapped at him, "but this phony Jake person doesn't fool me in the least!"  
"Oh ye of little faith," Jake chuckled and once again lowered his dark glasses to reveal the light within his eyes. Mother Stigmata was immediately taken aback by her error. "I'm terribly sorry, Jake," she stammered, looking both at awe to be in the presence of true holiness and disgusted that she'd actually be talking this way to Jake, who'd been one of her least favorite orphans. "To what do I owe this visit from the heavens?"  
"Uh, we're just here for Buster," Elwood told her, "So now that you know we want him for a good thing, we'll just borrow him for the next two weeks and be on our way."  
Mother Stigmata's expression went surprisingly sad. "It pains me to tell you this, Elwood," she told him, "but Buster was abducted from here along with the rest of our orphans about two weeks ago."  
WHAT!?" Elwood was aghast. "Howe did that happen?"  
"It was the work of Tyrone Terrell," Mother Stigmata told him.  
"Terrell," Elwood thought over where he'd heard the name before, "Ain't he the biggest drug dealer in the tri-state area."  
"Yes," Mother Stigmata said. "One night myself and the other sisters here at the hospital heard the orphans screaming in the night, and when we came down to assist them, we found their rooms completely empty. From the note Terrell's associates left us, he plans to use them to aid in the sorting and manufacturing of his unholy wares."  
"Well can't the cops do anything about this!?"  
"We notified them, but missing orphans aren't exactly a high priority for them," Mother Stigmata conceded. "And while we're on the subject of Buster, Elwood, I think there's something else about him you should know. His father stopped by last week. He wants custody of his son, and we had little recourse but to grant it." "Wait a minute, his father?" Elwood was feeling totally out of the loop now, "You never told me nothin' about him havin' a father!" "We thought he'd died in a drunk driving accident six year ago, but he had been spending that time at the Betty Ford Clinic, getting over the alcoholism that had caused the state to take custody of Buster from him in the first place," Mother Stigmata explained. "He has now cleaned up his life and gotten a respectable job. It is therefore right that he get custody of his son back." "Well what about Buster? What does he think about it?" "He was taken before his father arrived, but I'm sure he would agree it would be all for the best," Mother Stigmata said. "And so I'm asking you not to interfere with the transition of custody, Elwood . His father can provide a better life for him than you can."  
"Oh sure, screw over the ex-con who the kid really loves," Elwood muttered sarcastically. Mother Stigmata hit him with her stick in the most painful of all areas. "YEEOOWWW!" he yelled, "Now that wasn't fair, you son of a...."  
Mother Stigmata cracked him in the mouth before he could finish the curse. "Now remove yourself from my office!" she barked.  
"You know, ,you may claim to know God, but you're just as blind as any big businessman out there," Jake snarled at her as he turned to leave. Mother Stigmata whacked him on the back in closing.  
"What're we gonna do?" Elwood lamented as they headed down the stairs, "I heard of Tyrone Terrell's reputation. Poor Buster don't stand a chance in his system. And what if he don't like his real Dad?"  
"You really do care for him, don't you Elwood?" Jake asked him, looking dead serious.  
"Yeah, I really do," Elwood nodded, "He almost is like a son to me. And although it sounds strange, I actually want one now, and I'd like it to be him."  
"Well don't worry Elwood, I'll find him and free both him and the other orphans from the bonds of slavery," Jake told him firmly.  
"How? He could be anywhere now."  
"Give me a moment of silence," Jake closed his eyes and made like he was concentrating very hard. After about twenty seconds, he smiled and said, "You're not going to believe this, Elwood. He's at the old glue factory you used to work for."  
"Really?" Elwood was surprised and impressed, "How'd you figure that out?"  
"Now that's a trade secret I can't reveal, Elwood," Jake said, "but let's go tell the guys that we strike tonight, and that we need their help." 


	5. Buster, a Blues Sister, and the First C...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize up front if anything I write in this chapter is interpreted as insensitive toward Arab-Americans and/or Arabian people in general, all of whom I have deep respect for. But anyway, here's the next chapter....  
  
FIVE  
  
As night fell over Chicago, Tyrone Terrell relaxed inside his office in the former Propellant Packaging Corporation building. He enjoyed this position of power, having stepped over and rubbed out numerous rivals to reach the top. His organization was now churning out several tons of cocaine, marijuana and other heavy drugs a week, especially since he'd gotten his new labor pool over the last few weeks....  
Terrell's intercom buzzed. "Uh, Ty, the Arabs are here to see you now," came the voice of his brother and top lieutenant Vinnie.  
"Right," Terrell said. Then he frowned. "Vinnie, I don't have anything scheduled with any Arabs for at least the next four months!!"  
"Well they seem rather adamant to meet you, and I can seem to get rid of them," Vinnie admitted.  
Terrell sighed. "Send them in," he said. Vinnie opened the door a few seconds later and let in five guys in traditional Arabian robes and turbans. "Can I help you?" the drug kingpin asked.  
"Yes you may," said the tall thin member of the group, bowing to him. "I am Sheikh Ahmed Hamid Samamed, and I wish to buy some of your slaves."  
  
"Forget it Saddam, they're not for sale!" Terrell said curtly.  
"Samamed, not Saddam," the "Arab" corrected him. "I have heard much from your associates, about how you've managed to increase your capacity tenfold with them. I wish to use some of them to increase the output of my oil smuggling operation overseas, if that is OK with you."  
"No, it is not OK with me, because they are my slaves until I say they aren't, so beat it!" Terrell jerked his finger toward the door.  
"You heard the man, time to mount up your camels and ride on out of here," Vinnie started herding them out. The short, fat member of the group pulled away. "I see you leave me no recourse, then," he told Terrell. He blew a strange blue cloud toward the drug czar. "What the hell are you....?" Terrell started to ask, but suddenly found himself getting rather sleepy......  
"What did you just do to him!?" Vinnie demanded as his brother fell snoring to the floor.  
"This," Jake blew another sleeping cloud in Vinnie's face, sending him out cold.  
"Interesting use of knockout gas there, Jake," Mack told him as they started taking off their garments.  
"Works every time," Jake said proudly. "Elwood, I think you'd know the way around here best."  
"Right," Elwood led the others down into the pits of the old glue and shaving cream plant. He'd heard anguished cried from the moment they'd come into his old place of employment, and knew the kids were probably being held on the assembly line. What he and the others saw as they ran onto the catwalk overlooking the factory floor was appalling: at least seventy kids, none of whom looked older than thirteen, were literally chained in places all along the line and being whipped continuously by hulking guards as they did their best to sort out packages of cocaine and other narcotics as they came along the conveyor belt. Most looked like they'd be happy to die.  
"This is a carnal sin in God's eye," Jake commented out loud, "But we're going to fix this right now." He blew out the biggest sleeping cloud yet, which settled down over each of the guards, and it took them mere seconds to keel over asleep.  
"Good goin', Jake, "Elwood patted his brother on the shoulder. He ran over to edge of the railing. "Buster!" he called out into the throng of kids.  
"Elwood!" came a familiar shout from the far end of the factory that Elwood wouldn't have mistaken anywhere. He rushed down the stairs toward its source.  
"Oh Elwood I knew you'd come!" Buster gasped, hugging his guardian close.  
"Hey, was there ever any doubt?" Elwood winked at him, "Come on, we're getting' all of ya outta here."  
"But Terrell's got the only key," Buster pointed out.  
"Don't worry about that, my son, leave it all up to me," Jake said, having come down to the floor. "Children," he announced to all the prisoners, "By the holy powers invested in me, I declare you forever free from this slavery." With that, he waved his hand, and all the children's chains came off. Cheering with delight, they mobbed Jake, who smiled and soaked it all up.  
"Oh, that's your late Uncle Jake, by the way, "Elwood told Buster as he led him away from his spot in the line.  
"Late?" Buster was confused.  
"I'll explain it all later," Elwood told him.  
At that moment, a revived Terrell and about a dozen heavy armed gunmen burst through the doors above them. Rocky, Zee, and Mack, still up on the catwalk, immediately threw up their hands in surrender. "All right you guys!" Terrell yelled at them, "I don't know how you got in here, but NOBODY crosses Tyrone Terrell and gets away with it! Kill them, men!"  
Jake did a spectacular backwards somersault up onto the catwalk. "Go ahead Ty, make my night," he challenged the drug czar.  
"Eat this, hotshot!" Vinnie fired a bullet point blank at Jake's head...but it went right through him. It did, however slow down as it did so and stopped completely as it exited out his back, clattering harmlessly to the floor. "Ow," Jake said mockingly. Stunned, all the dealers poured everything they had at him, but with the same results. "Ow, oo, eech, tike, eeooww, oof," Jake taunted them. He bent down, gathered up all the bullets, and fused them together into a giant lead ball, which he slammed down hard on Terrell's foot. "OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" Terrell yelled in real pain.  
"You guys get the kids out of here," Jake called to the others, "I'll hold these losers off for you." Then he took a deep breath and let out a gale force wind that pinned all the dealers up against the wall.  
"You heard Jake, let's get goin'," Elwood told the kids as he started for the emergency exit to the rear parking lot. He pulled out the Bluesmobile's remote control and started directing the car into place outside."  
"Boy, that guy's amazing," Buster confided in him as they ran outside toward the famous car.  
"You ain't seen nothing yet, kid," Elwood said, pulling trigger to open the Bluesmobile's doors. There was something very different about the car, he realized, as he hopped in. It still looked the same from the inside, but somehow there was now enough space to hold all the kids comfortably. Apparently Jake had done some retooling with the car's intrinsic dimensions.  
"Are we just going to leave Jake in there?" Zee asked as he and the other adults climbed in.  
"Don't worry, he should be out in no time," Elwood reassured him. Indeed, no sooner were the words out of his mouth than Jake materialized next to him. "Floor it, Elwood," he said. Elwood pressed down on the accelerator, and the Bluesmobile sped off, smashing its way out the factory's rear gate.  
Back inside, Tyrone Terrell was livid. "Get to your cars!" he ordered his dealers, "We're going to make them sorry they were ever born!"  
  
"All right!" Vinnie pumped his fist in excitement, "I've always wanted to be in a big chase, Ty. Ever since we saw those serials on TV as kids......"  
"Just get your gun and follow me!" his brother snarled, hefting his own AK-47.  
Back inside the Bluesmobile, Buster scratched Armstrong behind the ears. "Wow Elwood, you've got a dog!?" he exclaimed.  
"Yep, and he'll be playin' backup harmonica for us as soon as we put the band back together again," Elwood said.  
"What's wrong with this guy?" one of the boys asked, pointing at the still-out cold Cabel on the Bluesmobile's floor.  
"He saw the light and still needs some time to get over it," Jake explained to him.  
"HERE THEY COME!!" a girl screamed, pointing out the back window. The sound of machine gun bullets ripping around the Bluesmobile acknowledged that. Elwood did a quick tabulation of their pursuers in his rearview mirror. "Three sedans and a limo," he said to himself. "Okay everyone, buckle up. "We're goin' into escape mode." And with that, he put the pedal to the metal.  
"Uh Elwood, why do we have to go so fast?" Zee asked nervously as they swerved wildly around a corner, "We could call the police, you know."  
  
"The police'll just take us in, pal," Rocky told him, "And besides, there's no way they'll be able to catch us in here. Nobody can catch the Bluesmobile."  
"Watch the bridge!" cried a boy, pointing at the windshield. Ahead of them, the drawbridge over the Chicago River was rising fast as a boat went underneath.  
"Thanks," Elwood told him. Then he gunned toward it. "Elwood, are you out of your mind!?" Zee shouted, "You're going to kill all of us!"  
"We're not gonna die," Elwood said, "We're on a mission from God." The Bluesmobile hit the bridge at ninety miles an hour and just managed to make the jump successfully. Behind them, Terrell's limo driver started to apply the brakes when he saw what was ahead of him, but his boss but his gun to his head. "Keep going!" Terrell ordered him. Gulping the driver complied and just managed to make it, as did two of the other three dealer cars. The last one, however, failed to get enough horsepower and missed the far span by a few feet, falling on top of the boat going underneath the bridge.  
Inside the Bluesmobile, the kids were now thrilled that they'd done something dangerous and lived to tell about it. "Do it again!" some of them asked Elwood.  
"Ya want us to do it again?" Elwood asked.  
"YEAH!!" was the unanimous response. Elwood looked to his right and saw a large public park he and Jake had frequented as kids. "Whatdya say Jake," he asked him now, "Should we show these guys the pool?"  
"Works for me," Jake said. Elwood swerved into the park, ,smashing some benches as he went. See that pool down there?" he asked the kids, point to the large Olympic length one at the bottom of the ravine ahead of them, being drained for the season, "How about we jump that next?"  
"GO FOR IT!!" the kids told him. Elwood accelerated forward, and the Bluesmobile broke through the retaining fence and rocketed over the pool, landing safely on the other side. Behind them, Terrell's limo also managed to make the jump safely, but the two other dealer cars weren't as lucky, the first landing right in the middle of the pool and the other crashing into one of the diving boards.  
"One more to go," Elwood said, assessing their pursuers. Terrell himself now joined his brother and two gunmen as they fired away at the Bluesmobile. Some of the bullets were getting dangerously close to the fuel tank, and Elwood knew they had to ditch them very soon. He now saw up the block an abandoned two-story department store. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Jake?" he asked his brother. Jake put his hand to Elwood's head. "I am now, Elwood," he said, "Hit it." Elwood nodded and roared through the boarded up front of the store. "Good thing this has got cop shocks," he said out loud as they rocked up the escalator.  
"They're almost on us!" a girl pointed out, pointing to the limo, which was no more than ten feet behind them and closing.  
"Don't worry, we'll get rid of them in a second," Elwood turned right at the top of the stairs and made a beeline for the window at the far end of the store. Zee realized what was about to happen. "Don't do it, Elwood!" he pleaded the driver, "We'll never survive!"  
"Relax, bub," Buster told him, "We're on a mission from God, you know."  
"And here's the proof," Jake said, and with that, he teleported to outside the window and started generating clouds with his fingers. As the Bluesmobile smashed through the window and started to fall toward the ground, he caught it on the clouds. He then sprouted his wings and flew off with the car.  
Behind them, Terrell's driver saw he was about to go off the edge and tried to stop, but was too late; the limo went through the hole in the window and fell two stories to the sidewalk, where it landed upside-down. Inside the wreck of his once-sleek limo, Terrell cursed to himself. "Men," he told his associates, this is not the end! We're going to hunt them down and make them sorry they were ever born!" He noticed Vinnie was looking in a strange way at his wrist. "So what's the matter with you?" he asked curtly.  
"They broke my watch!"  
  
About a half hour later, Jake finally set the Bluesmobile down in front of Mother Stigmata's hospital. "Okay kids," he told the orphans as they poured out of the car, "We'll leave you off here. The nice Penguin in here will see to it you're taken care of."  
"Can we do this again sometime?" a boy asked him as he went inside the hospital.  
"Maybe," Jake winked at him. The angel them walked over to the front door. "So Buster, it's a pleasure to meet you up front at last," he told the kid, shaking his hand.  
"Nice to meet you too, Uncle Jake," Buster said, seemingly more at ease than other people at shaking the vaporal hand of a dead man. "Who's this wimp?" he asked, pointing to Zee, who was staring straight ahead, a noticeable wet spot in his pants. "Oh that's my natural brother Zee," Jake explained, "he's going to need some getting used to this lifestyle."  
"And this is Rocky 'the Mountain,'" Elwood introduced Rocky to the youth. "Hop in, we gotta get outta here before the Penguin sees you're here and hands ya over to yer dad."  
"He's back!?" Buster looked very worried at the thought of his father.  
"Don't worry, I ain't gonna let him get ya," Elwood reassured him.  
"Thank you, Elwood," Buster was very relieved, "I'd hate to go back to the drinkings and beatings." Then he brightened. "Before we go, Elwood, I've got a friend I think would be good for the band," he said.  
"Oh really?" Elwood said, "How good is he?"  
"She, actually," Buster cupped his hands and called, "Katrina, they'll take you now," to a sad-faced blond girl who'd been hovering around the Bluesmobile's rear bumper.  
"A Blues Sister!?" Elwood hadn't been anticipating any female comers.  
  
"She sings beautifully, Elwood, and she's got great dance moves," Buster argued, "And she's got nowhere else to go; these jerks picked her up right off the streets."  
Elwood examined Katrina closely. From as far as he could see, she didn't have what it took to be a member of an elite blues band, but the pained expression of longing she was now giving him, combined with the fact that Buster really looked up to him....  
"Okay, she can come along," he agreed.  
"Thanks Elwood," Buster smiled, "You won't regret this."  
  
"I hope not," Elwood said. He watched as Katrina forced a small smile and silently climbed into the back of the Bluesmobile. "Don't she speak?" he asked Buster.  
"Yeah she speaks, she just takes time getting adjusted to strangers," Buster explained.  
There was a yawn next to Katrina. Cabel was finally coming to after his ordeal. "Hey guys," he said to the Brothers, "Did I miss anything?"  
"No, not really," Mack said, giving the others a wink.  
"All right, let's get rolling," Jake said, hopping back into the Bluesmobile, "Tomorrow we put the band back together." 


	6. Putting the Band Back Together

SIX  
"Good morning, you're listening to the Dunn & Cropper Talk Radio Show, I'm Steve 'the Colonel' Cropper with my main man Donald 'Duck' Dunn, and we're here to take all your calls from now until noon, so let's get it underway. First caller, what's on your mind today?"  
"Hi guys," came the voice on the other end of the phone, "It's me, Joliet Jake."  
Steve chuckled mildly. "Okay, I see you've got a sense of humor, caller, I guess the Cubs' big run's got you......"  
"No really, it's me, and I need your help."  
"Mister," Donald cut in, "Haven't you heard that Joliet Jake is dead? He died a good number of years ago."  
"Of course, Duck. Do you think I'd forget my own deathday?"  
"Okay, we're going to move on now to another topic...." Steve began, but at that moment, Jake stuck his head right out of the microphone. "Good morning," he said. Both Steve and Donald screamed in terror and jumped up. "Hey guys, what's going on in here?" the producer asked, running in from the control booth.  
"Nothing," Jake blew another sleeping cloud toward him, knocking him out. He popped out fully into the room and picked up the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, due to matters beyond their control, Steve Cropper and Donald Dunn will no longer be able to take your calls at this time," he told the listening public, "Please tune in after Halloween to see if they'll be coming back at all. Thank you."  
"What the hell do you want from us!?" Donald asked, his pipe hanging from his mouth in terror.  
"Gents, we have to save the world, and we need you to do it," Jake told them, "So get your guitars and meet us downstairs in ten minutes. We have a gig tonight at the Crocodile Rock Café on the North Side at 7, so be there then." He started to leave, then eyed Steve over. "Steve, this look is totally not you," he commented, "If you can, bring back the long hair and beard."  
"Uh, OK," was all Steve could manage. Jake smiled and walked out the door. Steve and Donald eyed each other nervously. "Did that just happen?" Steve asked.  
"I don't know," Donald reached under the table and picked up his guitar case, "But I'm doing exactly as he says just in case it did!"  
"Works for me," Steve said, picking up his own case.  
  
"Youse two stay here," Elwood told Buster and Katrina as they pulled up alongside Willie "Too Big" Hall's rebuilt Stripster Joint, "This place ain't for kids."  
The two of them nodded. Katrina still hadn't said a world all night, but she seemed by enjoying the company of the Brothers.  
"Isn't this guy the most sour of the band?" Rocky asked Elwood as they went inside. He and Zee looked spiffy in the Blues Brothers suits that Jake had managed to create for them.  
"Nope, I'd have to say that's Mr. Fabulous, but Willie runs a close second," Elwood admitted.  
"Well he's going to put up no resistance that I can't match," Jake said, flexing his eyebrows.  
Although the Stripster Joint wasn't to open for another several hours, it was already buzzing with activity. Bartenders, lighting people, and the girls themselves were getting into rehearsals for the evening's shows. "Boy, and I thought he couldn't have made it look any worse in here," Mack commented, staring at the lackluster architecture.  
"I think they lost somethin' personal too when ya came with us," Elwood said. He strode up to the bar. "We're here to see Willie," he told the bartender on duty. This man immediately pressed an intercom button in panic. "Willie, You-Know-Who's come back!" he shouted into it.  
"Get rid of him," was Willie's reply. Jake grabbed the intercom and yanked it right off the bar. "We will not leave until you agree to come with us, Willie," he told his former drummer.  
"Your Jake impersonations don't fool me, Elwood," Willie retorted, "I said before I was through with you once and for all and I mean it!"  
"Oh you don't think I'm real?" Jake sneered, "Why don't you come out and see for yourself?"  
The back door burst open and Willie stormed out, agitated this was taking longer than he'd hoped. He laughed at Jake. "So now your resorting to body doubles, huh?" he told Elwood.  
"We on a mission from God and we need ya," Elwood said to him.  
"Not listening," Willie covered his ears, "I've had enough missions from God in one lifetime, and besides, I destroyed the drums, so you're screwed as far as I'm concerned."  
"This is vitally important for the survival of the human race," Jake said, pulling Willie's hands off his ears, "and let me tell you right now, God really doesn't approve of the trade you've chosen to take up," he pointed around the Stripster Joint at the half-clad women.  
"Well if God doesn't like it, why doesn't he just send me a sign?" Willie snorted, folding his hands across his chest.  
"Okay Willie," Jake said firmly, "That did it. You've forced me to take drastic measures." He turn and shouted to everyone within earshot, "Okay, everyone out of this joint right now!"  
"Does that include us, Jake?" Elwood asked.  
"Yes, it does," Jake told him.  
"Let's go then," Elwood said to his partners.  
"Boy he's going to be in for a nasty shock when your brother gets through with him,' Rocky commented to Elwood as they stepped back outside.  
  
"I wonder what these drastic measures will entail?" Zee mused.  
"It's probably whatever Jake wants to do," Elwood said. This question was promptly answered as the Stripster Joint abruptly started collapsing behind them. The men dove for the safety of the Bluesmobile, where they watched the whole structure fall flat to the ground, slowing down briefly to allow those who hadn't taken Jake's warning seriously to run for their lives. When the rubble cleared, Jake was visible standing inside an energy bubble of safety with Willie, who looked deathly pale. "Like I said, Willie, your business was a disgrace to God, so I took the liberty of removing it from his sight just now," he told his drummer, "So meet us at the Crocodile Rock Café at 7 tonight, and don't worry about the drums; I'll have a new set for you by then."  
Willie nodded weakly. Jake shook his hand and strode back to the Bluesmobile. "Drive south," he told the others, "I have a premonition that we'll get most of the rest of the band there."  
  
"Thank you for stopping by MLT Gas Station," Murphy Dunne told the couple in the roadster that had just pulled up, "How may we help you?" Then he realized who was in the roadster. "Matt, it's been a while!" he exclaimed.  
"Nice to see you too, Murph," Matt "Guitar" Murphy smiled, "The Misses and I need ten gallons worth of unleaded premium."  
"And make it snappy," Mrs. Murphy ordered him, "We're in a hurry."  
  
"Right away," Murphy waved to his associates, "Blue Lou" Marini and Tom "Bones" Malone, who set to work on filling the car up. "How long have you guys been in business here?" Matt asked them.  
"Oh, about fifteen months," Tom said, "It's been rather slow though."  
  
"And best of all, we've had no contact with...." The all-too-familiar former police car pulling up to the pump grabbed Murphy's attention. "Elwood Blues," he finished his statement.  
"Good afternoon, guys," Jake said, hopping out of the Bluesmobile. Tom keeled over in a dead faint. "We're putting the band back together, so get your stuff ready."  
"Oh no you don't!" Mrs. Murphy reached into the back seat and pulled out a double-barreled shotgun, which she leveled at Jake, "You're not getting Matt again!"  
"Sugar, I told you we weren't going to shoot anybody!" Matt protested.  
"Stay out of this, Matt!" his wife snarled at him. She stormed up to Jake and put the rifle right up against his head. "If you and your homies aren't away from here by three, you're dead!" she shouted at him.  
"Poor threat," Jake sniggered, "I'm dead already, sweetums."  
"One, two, three!" before Mrs. Murphy could pull the trigger, however, Jake lowered his glasses again, and beams of light shot out of his eyes and disintegrated the gun in her hands. "You, you!" she sputtered. Jake smiled and let out another breath of air that froze her solid in a block of ice.  
"How the hell'd you do that?" Matt asked, half-stumbling out of the car.  
"Holy stuff," Jake said. He touched the ice block. "And I'm set it now so that when she melts out, she'll forget you ever existed and go find a real happy life."  
"Thanks, because she was really getting tough on me lately for going back with you guys the last time," matt said. Then he commented, "Hey, you look a lot like Jake used to."  
"He is Jake," Elwood said, sticking his head out the Bluesmobile's window.  
"Oh come on, Elwood, isn't it time to let go of the past?" Lou asked him, "Jake's gone; let him go."  
"It IS me, Lou," Jake said, "And there won't be a past, present or future if we don't do something now, so get your equipment."  
"No offense, pal, but what did you smoke this morning?" Murphy chuckled, "Now if you and the others would move along, we've got a business to run here."  
"Okay, if you demand proof, I'll give you proof, "Jake took one of the gas pumps off its hook and put it in his mouth. "Are you crazy!?" Murphy demanded. He rushed forward, but ran into an invisible force field Jake had somehow generated. Jake, meanwhile, began drinking the gasoline. His chest swelled as he took in more and more. "Not so much!" Lou protested, "That gas isn't cheap, you know!"  
Jake smiled and cut it off at about 10 gallons. He shook himself well, then pulled out a cigarette. He lit up, took a deep puff, and exploded in a massive fireball. Just about everybody around shuddered in horror at what had just happened. "That was totally unnecessary!" Murphy stammered, "Why didn't he seek counseling! Or jump off a building if he wanted to kill himself!"  
""I don't know, maybe because I'm not suicidal right now," Jake said, stepping unscathed from the ashes. It was Lou's turn to faint. Wha- Wha-What do you want!?" Murphy stammered, falling to his knees in reverence.  
"Get your keyboard, we've got a gig at the Crocodile Rock Café tonight at 7," Jake told him. Murphy nodded weakly and stumbled inside the gas station.  
"Good to see you back, Jake," Matt told him as the angel snapped his fingers and brought Tom and Lou back to consciousness, "Things haven't been the same without you."  
"I know, Jake said, "Now all we have to do is get Mr. Fabulous, and we'll be set."  
"Forget it, you'll never get Mr. Fabulous," Tom told him, "He moved up to Canada and became a lumberjack. No phone or computers."  
"That doesn't hinder me," in a flash, Jake took off at the speed of light again, returning moments later with Alan "Mr. Fabulous" Rubin in a bubble-filled bathtub. "Hey, what the hell!?" the trumpeter exclaimed, shocked to find himself south of the border again. He jumped up in shock at the sight of Jake. "Oh no, no, no!" he shouted, "Leave me alone!! You're dead! I don't have any....!" It was then he realized he was naked still, and jumped back down into the bubbles.  
"Mr. Fabulous," Jake said smarmily, "how nice to see you again. I see you're very comfortable."  
"All right, just tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you, just go away!" Mr. Fabulous said quickly, sinking as far down as he could.  
"Get your trumpet," Jake said, "We've got a gig tonight at 7."  
"No way, I told Elwood when he was captured before that I was through for good, and I stand by that now," Mr. Fabulous said firmly.  
"That's OK, I can just drain the water right out of here and expose you for all to see," Jake said, reaching for the drain.  
"NO!!" Mr. Fabulous screamed, slapping him away, "Just take me back up to Canada now!"  
Jake leaned in closer. "If you say no," he said, "I will haunt you with every tree you cut down. Since you are destroying God's work by cutting them down, it is only fair that I extract revenge as such. I will literally..." he started splitting himself into different versions of himself , "be everywhere. Now do you really want me to do that to you?"  
"All right, all right!" Mr. Fabulous shouted, "I'll do it! Just promise you'll let me in peace!"  
"You got it," Jake shook his hand. He hopped back in the Bluesmobile. "Let's go, Elwood." he said, "It's time we go to the café."  
"Hey, wait a minute, don't just leave me here!": Mr. Fabulous protested as they pulled out, "My clothes are back up in Canada! What the hell am I supposed to wear!? Jake? Jake!" He turned to the other band members, "Guys, give me a hand here!"  
"Love to, Al, but we don't have anything," Murphy told him, "Just sit tight, we'll see what we can do, though."  
"Sit tight, huh?" Mr. Fabulous snorted, hunching down in the tub, "Easy for you to say!" 


	7. Nazi Resurrection and the First Gig

SEVEN  
As the sun set over Resurrection Cemetery, the Heretics made their way toward the very back of the property. "Why must we do this again?" one of them asked Zildrohar.  
"Brother Bluftoi, we have unlimited capacity with the very worst of Hell for this mission, and these people fit our task like a glove," Zildrohar explained, "They had a personal grievance with our quarry, and in their current state they will be too much of a match for them."  
"Will they be in a good mood?" Bluftoi asked, "After all, from what I've heard, they fell a thousand feet to their deaths, and you don't just..."  
  
"Here they are," another Heretic said, pointing to a small, unkempt grave with a swastika engraved on it. Zildrohar lowered his staff to the ground. "I order you in the name of Satan, Lord of All, to rise forth at my command!" he hissed. Moments later, a pale hand rose up from the sod, startling some of the Heretics. With a loud scream, the rest of the Head Nazi emerged from the grave. His five fellow dead associates followed him up to the surface. "Where the Hell am I?" the Head Nazi asked, looked confused.  
"No, but you were there," a Heretic chuckled.  
"That's enough, Brother Appaloosa," Zildrohar told him sternly. He faced the Head Nazi. "I am an agent of darkness, sworn to uphold the tasks of your idol Adolf Hitler, and I need your assistance in carrying it out. All you need to do for us is destroy the Blues Brothers, and you will be rewarded with new life and a high place in the new culture we will initiate on the planet."  
"Consider it a great pleasure," the Head Nazi said sadistically. He turned to his associates. "My friends, do you want to finish what we started so long ago?"  
"Yes, my Fuehrer," the other Nazis said. They started to walk toward the cemetery gates. The Head Nazi lingered a little longer. "If you wish to recruit people like ourselves to your cause," he told Zildrohar, "I'd advise going up to Idaho. The spiritual head of our movement, Father William Bedford, should be holding court up there still. He hates non- Aryan Americans, and would love to help wipe out the Blues Brothers. Plus, he could possibly unite all the various Nazi movements if you'd like it."  
"We'd like that very much," Zildrohar told him. As the Head Nazi sauntered off with his associates, he asided to the nearest Heretic, "This will be the perfect revenge against the Kingdom of Heaven; a holy man being our ally against his master."  
  
"Now look, I've been following Elwood's music for years," Rocky argued to the others, "I'm the best candidate for his main man."  
"We don't even know if you can sing, outlaw!" Mack said firmly, "I've actually had experience as this band's front man, so I should still be it!"  
  
"But I was brought on board specifically to be a major part of this band," Zee argued, "Tell them, Jake!"  
"All right, all right," Jake waved his hands, "Tell you guys what. We'll make tonight an open forum. The one who shows himself to be most worthy of being Elwood's main man gets to be it, agreed?"  
"Agreed," they all said.  
"Democracy is good," Cabel jumped in.  
"Yeah, we know, Cab," Elwood told him. He was busy fixing a special harness around Armstrong's head with his free hand. "Here ya go, Armstrong, now ya can play the harmonica and not have to worry about pickin' it back up," he told the dog, putting one of his spare harmonica's in the sling near Armstrong's lips. Armstrong blew a few notes from "Piano Man" in perfect rhythm. "Yeah, you'll do good, Armstrong," Elwood told him.  
"Here it is, pull over," Jake pointed to the Crocodile Rock Café on the next corner. The band was already out front, with, surprisingly, a huge pile of instruments in front of them, and....  
"RAY!?" Elwood was surprised to see the band's regular music dealer again.  
Ray knocked on the Bluesmobile's passenger window. "Pardon me, are you the gentlemen who purchased all the stuff here?" he asked them.  
"Yep, it's us Ray, the Blues Brothers," Jake closed his hand and opened it to show at least five hundred dollars. "Here's the payment," he said, handing it to the blind man, "It'll help your retirement in Florida a bit better. But stay and watch the show for once."  
Zee chuckled. "Stay and watch the show when he's...well, you know, very nice, Jake," he said. Jake gave him a strange look.  
"Wow, a brand-new Armitron keyboard!" Murphy exclaimed, examining one of the instruments in front of them, "I've been wanting to play this for a while!"  
"Yeah, and now that they brought all this stuff, there's no way out of this," Willie said forlornly, staring half-heartedly at the new drum set before him.  
"Oh lighten up Willie, enjoy this for the memories if nothing else," Matt told him, hefting his new guitar.  
"Elwood," came Latifah's voice now. His lawyer popped out of the side entrance with a well-dressed man. "This is Marco, he owns the café," she explained to him.  
"So you're the Blues Brothers," Marco said, almost laughing, "I've heard a lot about you guys. I think you're making a big mistake coming here. We usually don't have your type of music in this place."  
"What do you mean?" Elwood asked. Then he heard the music inside. "What's that awful sound!?" he exclaimed, putting his hand to his ears.  
"It's techno," Katrina spoke for the first time. Jake had also generated a Blues suit for her, the only modification being a skirt and heels in lieu of trousers and shoes. "It's only come about since you've been in prison."  
"Well, all I can say is I'd hate to see what the rest of the music industry looks like now," Elwood commented.  
"That's why I'm so puzzled why you came here, Elwood," Latifah told him, "This isn't the type of place that takes your music well."  
"Sweetheart, this place is essential for us," Jake said. "He turned to the others. "Come on, let's get all this stuff inside and get ready."  
  
About a half hour later, everything was ready to go. Elwood had done a quick analysis of the audience. It was almost entirely teenagers, and well-off teenagers at that, sitting around tables drinking beer or dancing wildly on the floor to the hideous techno beat. Elwood was almost ready to ask Jake to smite the sound systems for him, as he couldn't take much more of it. The flashing multi-colored lights and smoke made the experience all the more hellish.  
"Okay guys," Jake announced to the group as a whole, "Here's how it's going to work. After we do the first two songs on the list, Elwood and I will sneak away and find the staff of the Relic. The rest of you keep playing for us. I'll send up a flare at the point we get it that only you can see, and then take a break so that our reappearance will look natural. I'll tell you where our next gig will be once we're done, and we'll go from there."  
"Now Jake, we're still going to get paid for this mission from God?" Lou inquired, "I mean, we don't work for free, you know."  
"True me Lou, you'll get what you earn," Jake told him. "Everything set then?"  
"As far as we can see," Rocky told him.  
"Okay then, Topton, you lead off the night," Jake said, "I'll go find a trace on the staff."  
He strode off stage to where Latifah, Marco, and Ray were watching hesitantly. "This is going to be good," he told them, "You just wait and see."  
"Ready for your big debut, Armstrong?" Elwood asked his dog. Armstrong barked in approval. "Well do your best, 'cause it's gonna be a rough crowd," he told it.  
"You know something, Elwood?" Buster asked him.  
"What?"  
"The thought of doing this again kept me going during the down periods," Buster told him.  
"Glad to here it," Elwood smiled. He turned to Rocky. "So, what'll we do first tonight?"  
"How about 'Land of a Thousand Dances?'" Rocky suggested.  
"Good choice," Elwood said, "Hit it."  
"One, two, one, two, three, four!" Rocky shouted, and the band cranked back up to life for the first time in two years. The response was immediate; loud boos from the teenagers greeted the unfamiliar music. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen," Elwood said into the microphone over the din, "We're so glad to see so many of you happy people out here tonight at the Crocodile Rock Café. We're the fabulous Blues Brothers show band and review, and we hope you like our show for the night. This is the first gig for several of our new members, so please give a warm welcome to Brother Zee, Katrina, Armstrong the Blues Dog, and my old pal Rocky 'the Mountain.'"  
Rocky started into the first chorus of "Land of a Thousand Dances." The teenagers started throwing their beer bottles at the stage, and unlike at the Country Bunker over twenty years ago, there was no protective chicken wire in place here. The band was forced to stop midway through the first refrain from the onslaught. "Nice receptive group of people we've got here, Elwood," Donald said, raising his eyebrows at Elwood, "I wonder why the hell we chose to come here."  
"Hey don't ask me Duck, ask Jake," Elwood pointed to his brother, who seemed to be the only person smiling in the building.  
"Well if this keeps up, I'm going to kill him a second time," Willie muttered.  
"Don't worry, I think I know how to placate them," Mack strode up to the mike. "Give me some backup here, guys," he said the band, and launched into a stirring rendition of "Don't Pour Your Love Out on Me Baby." Only their audience didn't find it so stirring; the beer bottle volume increased.  
"Maybe you guys should tone it down and let a real singer handle this," Murphy suggested.  
"Oh, and like you'd be able to handle that, Murph," Mr. Fabulous snorted.  
"Watch and learn, Al," Murphy started on a keyboard solo. "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday," he crooned, "the regular crowd settles in. They've....."  
A chair hit him right between the eyes. "Thank you for tuning in," he said dazedly into the mike, "You're listening to WWWW 104.4 Chicago, and we've got a great new record for you now entitled, 'Go Knock Yourself Out.'" He then keeled backwards off his stool, out cold.  
"Uh, anybody else here know how to play a keyboard?" Elwood asked quickly.  
"I've had some experience, but it was with a regular piano," Zee said.  
"Cover for Murph, then," Jake said, striding out on stage, "Elwood, come with me. I've found it."  
"Where is it?"  
"We'll have to do a little digging, but we should have it in about ten minutes," Jake took his brother's hand and led him off stage as Zee rushed over to the keyboard. "So, anyone else got another brilliant idea?" he asked them, "Because if you don't, I was thinking something along the lines of 'Funky Town.'"  
"You guys are the worst group to come in here in years!" Marco complained to Jake and Elwood as they rushed toward the wings.  
"Ah, just shut up and enjoy the show!" Jake did the Force-wave to Marco, who turned complacently back to the stage.  
"Hey, you guys really have them in it," Ray commented to Jake, "I can here them eating you up out there."  
"Yeah, let's just hope they don't do it literally," Jake told him.  
"So what'd ya mean by digging?" Elwood asked his brother.  
"It's underground, Elwood, right about....here," Jake pointed to a specific spot in the floor. "Stand back," he said, lowering his sunglasses. Power beams shot out of his eyes and blew a huge hole in the floor. Jake led Elwood into it. "Hold on tight," he said, and started spinning around so fast that he began burrowing into the ground. After about thirty feet, they landed with a thud on the floor of a large cavern. "So this is all under here?" Elwood was impressed.  
"Hard to believe, huh?" Jake said. He pointed to his right. "It's about fifty feet down the tunnel that way."  
"Good, let's get it then," Elwood started in that direction.  
"Hold it," Jake grabbed him suddenly, "Satan's followers would have made sure the relic's piece's were secure." He lowered his sunglasses again. This time his eyes did an infrared scan of the area ahead of them, reveal what appeared to be a tripwire right where Elwood had been about to step. "Stand clear," Jake told him, and gave the tripwire a tug. There was a low rumbling noise, and something big and sharp slammed into the far wall. Elwood winced at the thought of what might have happened to him.  
"You see Elwood," Jake said, pointing at the object, which was a large spiked steel ball, "We've got to be careful here. This one'll probably be only lightly defended, but further on down the line with other pieces of the relic, we're going to run into some areas with heavier defenses."  
"Then why am I here in the first place?" Elwood had to ask, "You got the first part all by yourself."  
"Since that was already in holy hands, you weren't needed, but for all further pieces of the Relic, you will need to be necessary as Solomon Delaney's descendant," Jake told him, "Don't ask me why, but that's how it goes."  
The two of them made their way cautiously down the hall, Jake scanning for further booby traps. Fortunately, they came across none. At the end of the cavern was a large door cut into the rock with a strange insignia on it. Jake stuck his hand in the center of a small opening in it and turned the cavity ever so slightly to the right. A clicking sound was heard, and the door slowly opened. "Behold, the staff of the St. Francis de Sales Relic," Jake said as the door swung open, revealing a grotto empty except for a shrine at the far end. A dazzling beam of light shone down on the object resting on top of it. Jake scanned the room. "All clear," he told Elwood, "Let's get a move-on."  
They hustled over to the shrine. Elwood could feel the presence of God as he stared at the staff, which was beautifully carved with scenes from the Old Testament that he knew well from Mother Stigmata's sermons as a kid. "This'll look good on the Relic once we get it all linked up," he said, reaching for it.  
"Step away from the staff now, slime," came the voices of the brother's least favorite people in the world: the Nazis. 


	8. Calumet Keith

EIGHT  
"How can these guys be here!?" Elwood asked Jake as they turned around very slowly, "They're dead!"  
"So am I and I'm here," Jake pointed out. He cringed at the sight of the Nazis holding weapons that looked like a cross between a crossbow and a trident at them. "Oh crap, they've got inferno rods!" he lamented.  
"What's that?"  
"DUCK!!" Jake pushed his brother down as one of the Nazis fired off the inferno rod he was holding. A massive fireball shot out the end of it and roared over their heads, slamming into the wall behind them. Elwood looked up to see that it had taken a huge chunk out of the wall.  
"Standard demonic weapon," Jake explained, "As you can see, it destroys pretty much anything it touches. Since these guys are well qualified to be demons, they probably got these the moment they entered Hell."  
"And we'll use it on you until you crack," the Head Nazi snarled. "Now just do as I say, Blues, and give us the staff."  
"Over my dead body, pal," Jake retorted.  
"That's the idea," the Head Nazi chuckled. "You know, it'll be so fun finally killing you, making the world safe from black-loving Catholics like yourselves. You're an embarrassment to the white race, you know that?"  
"You keep talking like that and I'm going to have to wash your mouth out!" Jake released a torrent of soap suds from his mouth that inundated the Nazis. "Head for the exit, Elwood!" he shouted to his brother, "I'll hold them off!"  
"Right," Elwood took off running. One of the Nazis jumped in his path. "Going somewhere?" he asked sinisterly.  
"Yeah, away from you," Elwood gave him a kick in the nuts but was surprised to see it had no effect. The Nazi laughed. "That can no longer hurt me," he sniggered, "I am indestructible!"  
He grabbed for the staff. Elwood held it out of his reach. He grabbed the Nazi by the head and smashed him into the wall. The head came right off his shoulders. The Nazi stumbled around blindly looking for it. Elwood kicked it out of his way and rushed for the cavern opening. Once he was safely outside, he turned back to see Jake running sideways along the far wall, narrowly avoiding inferno rod blasts from the other Nazis. "Kill him you incompetent fools, kill him!" the Head Nazi was screaming at them. He fired off a blast from his own inferno rod which just narrowly missed Jake's head. Jake twisted out of harms way, landed on the cavern floor behind them, and fired two blasts of holy energy from his hands into the roof, which started caving in. Jake cart wheeled over to Elwood as the ceiling fell in on the Nazis with a loud crash. "Yeesh, that's got to hurt," Elwood said.  
"That won't hold them for long," Jake noted, "We'd best keep moving. Give me the staff."  
Elwood handed it to him. Jake looked skyward, apparently expecting some kind of enlightenment, and while none seemed to actually come, he chuckled and said, "You'll never guess where we're going to have to get the next piece, Elwood."  
"Where?"  
"Back down in Louisiana."  
"Ya mean...we gotta go back down there, with...HER waiting there?"  
"Don't worry, the preliminary coordinates I'm getting put us well away from her," Jake told him, "And don't worry, her powers would be no match for mine. Come on, we've got a show to close."  
"Right," Elwood agreed. As the two of them walked back up to where they'd come in, the Nazis slowly started coming out of the rubble of the cavern. "Come on you idiots!" the Head Nazi screamed at his men, "we can't let them get away!"  
  
Jake and Elwood emerged back on the stage to find the band in rather desperate straights. They were now singing the Rubber Duckie song, likely out of sheer desperation. Tables were now being thrown at them by the few remaining people in the café. Only Ray, unable to see exactly what was going on, seemed to be happy now. Both Marco and Latifah had their heads in their hands at the debacle before them. There were some bright spots that Elwood could notice, though. The first was that Buster had been right—Katrina was a natural singer, and she had the men following her at the moment. Plus, Armstrong seemed to be handling the harmonica quite well—even if he was playing it while hiding behind Willie's drums.  
"Well where the hell have you been?" Mack asked Elwood as he came back on stage, "We've been dying out here!"  
"Helpin' save the world," Elwood told him. He picked his microphone back up off the holder. "Thank you for coming folks," he told the remaining audience members, "We sure hope to come back soon. Drive home safely."  
There was a mass exodus for the exits. "Well, that was a complete waste!" Mr. Fabulous grumbled, tossing his trumpet into its case, "Elwood, why the hell did you bring us here in the first place!?"  
"We're on a mission from God," Elwood said, wrapping up some microphone cables.  
"Well in the future, either find another place that's less dangerous or leave us out of it," Willie complained, throwing his drumsticks to the ground.  
"Okay guys," Jake said, striding out on stage, "Not bad for a first try, but we still need a lot of work."  
"So tell us something we don't know," Zee sighed. "Jake, maybe we should think about trying another type of music. I mean, who listens to the blues anymore? Certainly not people this age."  
"Well we're the Blues Brothers, we're not the Disco Boys or the Rapster Twins," Elwood pointed out, "Blues are in our blood."  
"And our blood starts boiling when you keep leading us down these blind roads," Steve argued. "Face it Elwood, we were great while it lasted, but the blues are dead. Nobody wants us anymore."  
"Exactly," Tom added, "Half these kids probably don't even know who we are."  
These statements had an effect on Elwood. He slouched down on the stage, feeling more washed up than he'd ever been. What the band was saying was true to an extent; they were has beens—and has beens wanted by the law. Maybe he was just thinking to wistfully that everything would be great if he started singing again. He felt Armstrong's tongue against his face. "Good show, Armstrong," he told the dog, patting his head, "Sorry to put you through all this."  
"Excuse me," came a younger voice from in front of him. Elwood looked up to see a boy of about 16 staring at him, looking like he'd just discovered a gold mine. "You are the real Blues Brothers, aren't you?" he asked.  
"Well of course we're really them," Elwood said, "Whatdya think, some idiots would go around impersonating us?"  
The boy's face lit up. "Oh man, I've been waiting my whole life to meet you guys!" he exclaimed. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a notepad. "Can I have your autograph?" he asked, practically shoving it in Elwood's face.  
"Uh, sure," Elwood looked up at Jake, who magically produced a pen in his hand and handed it to him. Elwood signed his name and passed the tablet to Rocky. "Pass it around, Rock, might as well make it a clean sweep," he told his associate. Turning back to the boy, he asked, "And you are...?"  
"Keith Danson," the boy told him, "And let me just say I'm your biggest fan in the Tri-State area."  
"Danson?" Elwood frowned, "That name sounds so familiar."  
"My father's Tony Danson, the railway king," Keith said, looking not overly happy at who his father was.  
Elwood snapped his fingers. "Now I know him; he used to be in the orphanage with us, remember Jake?"  
"Of course," Jake said, "And if I'm not mistaken, he's still obsessed with making it big like he was then."  
"Oh he's always been obsessed with success, all right," Keith sighed, "So much so that I'm ignored half the time."  
"Speaking of your father, Keith," a very pretty girl said striding up to him, "you'd better head back now before he comes home from the meeting with the board of directors."  
"In a minute, Jennifer, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life," Keith told her. He put his arm around her and told Elwood, "Elwood, meet Jennifer Quinn, the prettiest girl in the Midwest. She and I share a..."  
"Seriously, Keith, we'd better get going," Jennifer said, showing him her watch.  
"Okay," Keith shrugged. He started to turn away, then stopped and looked back at the Brothers. "Say, maybe if you guys want to come along, I think I have some ideas for you that might get you reenergized musically."  
  
What sort of ideas?" Elwood had to ask.  
"Well the way you started off tonight, you were admittedly a little flat," Keith told them, "I suppose that's because you're just starting off again, but I think if you built it up like you did at the Palace Hotel Ballroom, come on stage dramatically, you might make a bigger impression on the audience. Plus, I think you might want to use a couple of more modern songs in your repertoire. It'll bring you more up to date with today's crowds."  
"Well like I just said, we're the Blues Brothers, not the..." Elwood began.  
"You can keep the blues, Elwood, but I'm saying throw in a little modern rock from time to time to make it more variable," Keith said. "I'll be out front if you want to take me up."  
He and Jennifer walked toward the exit. Elwood looked over at Jake. "Whatdya say, do we take him up?" he asked his brother.  
"I guess it couldn't hurt," Jake shrugged, "But first things first." He walked over to Latifah, who had her face in her hands. "Is it over yet?" she had to ask.  
"This part of our mission is," Jake did the force-wave to her again, "Now you will book us into the Gator Bay Fall Festival in Louisiana three days from now."  
Latifah nodded and walked offstage. "Ray," Jake told the music seller, "I want you to build the musical instrument I am now implanting in your head. It will come of use to us in the near future."  
He touched Ray's forehead. "Boy, you sure are one imaginative type, man," Ray told him, "Now you've got me cooking."  
"I should hope so," Jake said.  
"Are we going to get paid for this," Zee called over to him, "The manager left a minute ago without giving us any."  
"Don't worry about the money, brother, we'll have a much richer reward once all is said and done with," Jake told him.  
"Well if my band left over money, I think money should be somewhat of a factor," Zee argued.  
Meanwhile, Elwood patted Katrina on the shoulder. "Ya did good," he told her, "You really do have natural talent."  
"Thanks," Katrina gave him a distant smile. She and Buster walked off toward the rest of the band as they slowly picked up their things and headed for the exit. "Ya gonna take care of the kids for us, Rock?" Elwood called to Rocky.  
"Actually I'd like to come with you on this, Elwood," Rocky said, looking rather determined, "Mack can handle it, right Mack?"  
"Sure thing," Mack waved, tired. He took Buster and Katrina under his wing. Elwood whistled for Armstrong. "Come on boy, we've got some advice to take," he told the dog. He gave Jake a side look. "Let's just hope the kid's ideas are good," he told Jake as they headed for the Bluesmobile, "because if he's going to ruin us with some of that techno-rap stuff that's popular now, we're in big trouble."  
No sooner were the Brothers out of the café, however, than the Nazis came charging up on stage. The Head Nazi sniffed the air. "They went that way," he told his men, pointing after them, "Hurry and we might still have a lock on them." 


	9. Two Rather Unpleasant Encounters

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Ray Charles.  
  
NINE  
  
"Buster's father's here, Mother," one of the nuns told Mother Stigmata.  
"Send him in," she said. Buster's father, a clean-cut man casually dressed, entered. "Thank you for calling, Mother Stigmata," he said, shaking her hand, "What's this I've heard about Buster?"  
"I'm sorry to tell you Jack that he was abducted a few weeks ago," Mother Stigmata told him, "We're working to get him back for you, but the police are uncooperative so far."  
"Well not anymore," came Mercer's voice. He strode boldly into Mother Stigmata's office with Daniel, Mount, Suntzman, Marvin, Lieutenant Eliozar, and the evil police Cabel left behind by the split in tow. "Hi, Burton Mercer, candidate for governor, time to make a change in Illinois...."  
  
"I know who you are," Mother Stigmata said dryly. She glared over at Marvin. "Guns are not allowed in this hospital," she told him sternly.  
"This'll only take a minute," Marvin said, "We just heard that Elwood Blues was here, and since he and the child were together the last time..."  
"Who's Elwood Blues?" Buster's father stepped toward him, "I'm his real father, Jack Lancaster's the name, and if you can help..."  
"We'd be glad to help," Suntzman said, "This Elwood Blues character is a public enemy number one. He kidnapped your son last time, and we're willing to bet he's done it again."  
"Elwood didn't kidnap him this time, it was Tyrone Terrell," Mother Stigmata informed them, "I told you all that when I called it in."  
"Right," Mercer leaned over her desk "We have reliable sources that say Elwood was here yesterday. "Did he happen to say where he was going?"  
  
"No," Mother Stigmata told him, "I just told him about Buster and he left, so I couldn't tell you anything."  
"You sure about that?" Mercer dug out five hundred more dollars and placed it on her desk. Mother Stigmata threw it back in his face. "No!" she bellowed, "I do not take dirty money!"  
"It's not dirty, I always iron my cash..." Mercer started to say.  
"Mr. Mercer," Daniel pulled him back. He told Mother Stigmata, "Madam, we want to see the child home safely like you do. But we can only find him if you help us."  
"I've already told you all I know, and if you try and force more out of me, you will regret it dearly, officer!" Mother Stigmata grabbed hold of her ruler and wielded it around wildly enough to make all the cops take several steps backward. Except for the evil Cabel. He strode forward and slammed both hands down on the desk. "I don't like the way you're talking to me," he said coldly, "We can bust you up for being insolent to an officer of the law. The fact that you wear holy garb means nothing to me."  
  
Mother Stigmata whacked him on the shoulder. "Don't get arrogant with me!" she barked, "Elwood Blues may not be the most moral man in America, but you and your associates here are no better!"  
Evil Cabel raised his arm to strike her, but Lieutenant Eliozar grabbed him before he could. "Commander, it wouldn't be worth it," she told him. Evil Cabel growled but backed off.  
"Now get out of my sight, all of you!" Mother Stigmata pushed the officers forcefully out the door.  
"You sure you won't consider..." Mercer started.  
"No!" Mother Stigmata slammed the door behind him. "Now Jack, I believe..." she turned back to Buster's father, only to find he'd left with the others.  
  
"How much further?" Elwood asked Keith.  
"Only about eight miles," Keith told him. He was petting Armstrong behind the ears, "You can't miss the place. It's the biggest house in Chicago."  
"That was the kind of place Tony was always talking about living in," Jake said, "It's the kind of place I always dreamed of Elwood and me living once the band took off."  
"How do you know, Jake?" Elwood asked.  
"In heaven, you get free viewings of anywhere on this planet," Jake explained.  
"So are you really Joliet Jake Blues?" Keith had to know.  
"That's me," Jake lowered his shades and showed him the Light of God in his eyes. Keith was amazed. "So you talked about a real mission from God," he went on, "What does this entail?"  
"We save the world," Elwood said, "You said you had some ideas for us?"  
"Yeah, well, first I think you guys should make your entrances more dramatic," Keith said, "It was great at the Palace Hotel Ballroom when you had the band build to a crescendo, and then you came out and did your unlocking the briefcase bit and..."  
"Wait, how would you know about the Palace Hotel Ballroom gig?" Elwood asked, "You weren't born when we did that."  
"I've got it on tape from e-bay from someone who was there," Keith told him.  
"What's e-bay?" Elwood had never heard of the Internet before.  
"I guess I'll have to show you someday, but it's with computers and you can do pretty much anything," Keith said.  
"Keith's the biggest collector of your memorabilia in the Tri-State area," Jennifer told the musicians, "You should just see his room; it's wall-to-wall with you guys."  
"Well I can see about the briefcase and the band, that probably would be good," Elwood admitted.  
"I think in order to make it more accessible to the modern viewers, you'll need to add some big pyrotechnics, maybe smoke and fireworks..." Keith went on.  
"Hold it, hold it," Elwood held up his hand, "We don't got the technical capacity for all that stuff."  
"You don't, but I know some friends who do," Keith said with a smile, "We'll just book them to come along and help you guys set up before the show."  
"I guess that'll work, Elwood," Jake said to his brother. "How 'bout you, Rock?" Elwood said to his partner. Rocky nodded silently.  
"Next, I think you should have the band wear those blue suits they wore during the Battle of the Bands last time out," Keith suggested, "Since your playing blues music and that was popular in nightclubs in the 40s, you should look as formal as possible, I think."  
"I'll buy that," Elwood said. "Anything else?"  
"Like I was saying, maybe you could update your collection with some modern hits, but make sure it's connected to the blues background a little, maybe some Bruce Springsteen, Bob Seger, Neil Diamond, the Eagles..."  
"Hold up again," Elwood interrupted, "I never heard of half these people."  
"I can teach you," Keith said, "Turn left here, and we're just about there."  
"Kid," Rocky cut in, "May I remind you that we—they—made a living singing rhythm and blues music."  
"I don't mean completely redo the act," Keith protested, "I mean just throw one in once in a while."  
"Elwood?" Rocky looked at him. Elwood shrugged. "We could give it a try during the next show," he said, "Just to see how it works."  
"And there's the place," Keith pointed to a very large white marble mansion atop a hill ahead of them. "Nice," Elwood said.  
  
A few moments later, the party climbed through Keith's bedroom window. Elwood was surprised by the wealth of his and Jake's careers that were represented in there. Posters of the two of them adorned every wall, tapes labeled BLUES BROTHERS were strewn everywhere, and a full suit was hanging by the closet. "Wow, when you said you were our biggest fan, you sure weren't jokin'!" he exclaimed, "What got ya hooked on us?"  
"I saw the videotape of the Palace Hotel Ballroom show from one of my father's friends and became a fan for life," Keith explained, "When I got older I started interviewing all the people I could who knew you. I even got through to your guardian Curtis before he died. I'm hooked up online to several of the orphans you helped back in 1980, and if you need safe houses on this mission, I think I can get in touch with several of them who might want to help you.  
"Amazing," Elwood looked over the paraphernalia, impressed.  
"You see Elwood, you're not as washed up as you think," Keith told him, "People do love your music; there's several chat rooms out there dedicated to you. "You're just waiting to be discov..."  
Just then the door slammed open and a man entered, looking really mad. Elwood recognized it as Tony Danson, even after all these years later. Tony, however, didn't seem to notice him at first. He rounded on his son. "So, you snuck out yet again!" he snapped, "I'm getting sick and tired of this! Your teachers have complained for no end, and...."  
"Look dad, I said I hated going there!" Keith protested back, "You can't just infringe on my life!"  
"Well you're going to run this company some day, like it or not, and..." it was then that Tony noticed the Blues Brothers. He grinned with an edge of superiority. "Elwood Delaney," he said smarmily, "Fancy seeing you again."  
"That's Blues," Elwood corrected him.  
"You haven't changed a bit," Tony went on, 'the same terrible clothes, the same dangerous look, the same..." he noticed Jake. "And I see you haven't let Jake go, even though he died in prison years ago." he continued, "Boy did he ever corrupt you."  
"You're no angel either, Tony," Jake said, "If I heard you wife correctly at last month's All-Heaven Feast Day of St. Michael Archangel Picnic, you slept around with numerous people after you married her."  
"How dare you!" Tony shouted, "Nobody insults me like that with slander! If you...!" he now turned to Rocky. "I know you," he said, "I saw on the news, you're the rapist and murderer that broke out." He turned back to Elwood. "You keep great company, Elwood," he said, "I'm turning you all in."  
"Mr. Danson, please, we didn't mean any..." Jennifer tried to stop him.  
  
"You stay out of this!" Tony snapped. He turned back to Keith. "I thought I told you to break up with...!"  
"DOWN!" Jake somehow threw everybody to the ground as another inferno rod blast tore into the doorframe. Seconds later the Nazis appeared again. "Give up, Blues, there's no more running!" the Head Nazi snarled.  
"It ain't over till we say it is!" Jake fired blasts of holy energy at them, destroying some valuable paintings. "My Van Dycks!" Tony screamed at the wreck of his masterpieces.  
"Out of my way, mortal!" the Head Nazi shoved him aside and stormed toward the Brothers. As he did, he crossed a beam of moonlight shining in through a window and became completely skeletal. Everyone gasped. "He's just like the Pirates of the Mediterranean!" Elwood said.  
"Pirates of the Caribbean, Elwood." Keith corrected him.  
"Whatever."  
"And it means I'm completely unstoppable!" The Head Nazi took aim at them and fired. Jake generated another invisible force field to stop it, then took a deep breath and froze the Head Nazi in ice. Noticing the other Nazis were about to zap Tony, he also froze them up, inadvertently taking Tony with them. "Whoops," he said, "Oh well, he'll be fine in the morning. Come on, let us take our leave of this place of money worship." 


	10. We'll be Back Soon, Chicago!

TEN  
"Okay Seymour, show me what you've got," Mercer said, leaning down next to the monitor in his office at Department of Corrections Headquarters.  
"Here's what we filmed yesterday, sir," Seymour hit the PLAY button on the VCR. On the screen, a young couple was awakened by the sound of a window being broken. "What's that!?" the wife cried.  
"I'll go check, honey," the husband, a terrible actor, said. He strode down the hall to the window—and was hit on the head with a lead pipe. "Oh no, the Blues Brothers!" he exclaimed.  
"That's right, chump," the actor playing Jake, also terrible at his trade, said, "And now we're going to kidnap your wife and kids and your cute little dog. Come on Elwood."  
The Elwood actor joined "Jake" in stalking down the hall. Suddenly a tall metallic humanoid object glowing with light jumped out of the shadows at them. "Oh no, it's...it's...BURTON MERCER!" the "Brothers" cried in terror.  
  
"You boys will never beat the Mercernator," Mercer chuckled. He pointed a huge bazooka on his arm at them and fired. There was an abrupt cut as the "Brothers" were destroyed to the wife coming out of the bedroom. "Oh Mr. Mercer, how can we ever thank you!" she gushed.  
"You can thank me by voting me into office on Election Day, and put that softie Haroldson out of office," Mercer told her, putting his "arm" around her.  
"The Mercernator," the voice over announced boomed, "He's so tough on crime, it's almost painful to watch."  
"So, what do you think, sir?" Seymour asked his boss.  
"Why'd you have to take out me splattering their heads all over the place!?" Mercer protested.  
"Well Mr. Mercer, we're trying to wow the voters over to our side, not horrify them," Seymour rationalized.  
"And they're going to rape his wife and kids, not kidnap them," the candidate went on, "It says so right in the script. We need to make them as evil as possible."  
"What if you're wrong and..." Seymour started to protest.  
"Mr. Mercer, Tony Danson's here to see you," Lieutenant Eliozar called in.  
"Tony!" Mercer embraced the businessman, an old friend, "What brings you here?"  
"Burton, I have a proposition for you," Danson told him, "The Blues Brothers kidnapped my son last night. I've been told that you're hell-bent on catching them. If you can do this, I'd be grateful enough to try and convince some members of the Electoral College to vote for you."  
"Consider it done, Tony," Mercer shook his hand, "We'll have this whole affair wrapped up in a few days. You're not the first one to come out and press kidnapping charges against them; the other guy's with Jim getting the troops all warmed up."  
"Mr. Mercer, we just got a call from a meter maid," Daniel called from in the door, "The Blues Brothers are in a junkyard on the south side; if we hurry now, we might catch them."  
"Well then what are we waiting for, let's get moving everyone," Mercer rushed for the door.  
"Explain to me why I'm coming as well, Mr. Mercer?" Seymour asked his boss.  
"You and the production staff keep the cameras rolling," Mercer explained, "When we catch them, I want it on tape making us cops look like heroes."  
"You do realize sir that if they leave the state, they'll be out of our jurisdiction."  
"The hell with jurisdiction," Mount snorted, "We chased them all the way up to Lake Wassapamani in Wisconsin twenty years ago and nobody complained."  
The square in front of D.O.C. headquarters was jammed with authorities. Mercer had spent the last two days searching every inch of the state for the best of the best in law enforcement for the elite force he was going to use to bring the Brothers in, and the top 700 of them were now standing before him. Most were Illinois Highway Patrol officers, but he'd been able to find room for the best of the Chicago Police Department, Illinois National Guard, local cops, various S.W.A.T. teamers, and, at Suntzman's request, a few Joliet guards. He'd wanted an even larger force, but Daniel and Mount had convinced him that any further manpower deployments would leave the state understaffed. Added onto his force were the hundred FBI men Agent Orange had managed to scrape together and the five hundred men of General Storrs's command. They'd told Mercer they'd be able to get him more forces if needed. "Well Mercer, are we ready to fly with this?" the FBI man asked him as he came up along side them, "They're calling for rain any minute now."  
"Just let me make my Gipper speak," Mercer hefted a megaphone. "All right men," he announced to all the cops, "You're about to embark on a historic crusade in the annals of law enforcement. We will be in the field for long hours, sweating for..."  
"Mr. Mercer, if we stay around here much longer, they'll get away!" Daniel whispered in his ear.  
"To your cars then!" Mercer announced boldly to cheers. "Ness, come with me," he told his dog, leading the Doberman to his car, a brand-new Cadillac with all the special features. He'd gotten it as a special gift from the state's leading car factory for giving them special funds for increased production, a move that was technically illegal, but beyond Mercer's concern as long as the governor didn't find out and exploit it.  
"How come your dog gets the front seat?" General Storrs complained as he and Agent Orange climbed into the back seat with Seymour.  
"He asked first, didn't you Ness?" Mercer scratched the dog behind the ears. He pressed a few buttons on his control panel. "Global Positioning Unit," he told the others, "It connect to satellites. If we can get a trace on the famous Bluesmobile, we can watch their and our every move. It's really a neat device you'll..."  
"I'm aware of how it works," Agent Orange said curtly.  
"Right then," Mercer picked up his siren from the floor and stuck in on his car's roof. "Ready Jim?" he asked the warden in his own car on the right. Suntzman, who was giving directions to Danson and Buster's father, gave him a thumbs up. "Steve, Charlie, ready to hit the highways again?" he asked Daniel and Mount on the left. The captains gave him even higher thumbs up. Mercer clicked on his radio. "Officers, agents, troopers, start your engines and sirens!" he ordered all the officers. There was a loud whoop as the cruisers roared to life. "Let's move out; we're hunting Blues!" Mercer roared as he led his force out into traffic.  
  
"All right ladies and gents," Jake announced pompously to his contingency, "Four million score and thousands of years ago, the lord our God brought forth upon this universe the planet earth, conceived in holiness and dedicated to the proposition that all beings are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great battle to see whether that planet so conceived and dedicated can long endure. The world will little note nor long remember what I say here, ,but it will never forget what we do, to make sure this planet of by and for the people shall not perish from the universe! Are there any questions?"  
"WHEN WILL WE GET PAID!" the band demanded.  
Jake sighed. "Okay, I can see you won't be pacified," he said in resignation. He aimed his arms at the band, and moneybags shot out of them and landed at their feet. The band greedily tore them open to find mountains of gold coins. "We're rich!" Donald yelled, "All we had to do was kill Jake and we'd have hit it big!"  
"Then why didn't we do it?" Willie pondered, "Because Lord knows we wanted to." The drummer looked skyward and added, "No offense."  
"None taken," Jake said. "We have eleven days until the end of the world," he continued his spiel, "And there is no going back. Either we succeed or die trying. Now let's roll out!"  
The dead man walked over to Reverend James and Ray. "We'll keep in touch with these special radios," he said, handing one to the holy man, "Turn it up to the highest frequency for contact with us. Also keep a look at this gauge," he handed him a color-coded barometer, "This will measure the amount of evil entropy in the Chicago area. It's critical if it enters the red. When it reaches the far right side, Hell's breaking wide open, so if you get everybody praying you might be able to alleviate it a bit. Contact us only about once a day, so that Hell's agents can't get a trace on us."  
"As you wish, O holy one," Reverend James said, handing both of them to Ray. Jake strolled to the Bluesmobile. Start'er up, Elwood," he told his brother.  
"All aboard," Elwood announced, climbing into the Bluesmobile. "Come on, Armstrong," he said, lifting the dog up into the back seat, "We're goin' on a big adventure."  
"Hey Elwood," Keith told him, lowering the shades of the perfect replica Blues Brother outfit he'd brought with him, "This has always been my dream to go on a mission from God like this."  
"Well keep in mind, kid, that this is serious stuff," Elwood told him, "The future of the world's literally at stake here."  
"Well after being forced to spend half my life in pathetic private schools learning how to run a company I don't want to take over, this is a welcome relief," Keith said, "I mean, you guys are the antithesis of normal society—and I like you better."  
"Thanks," Elwood shrugged.  
"Just be careful, Keith," Jennifer said, sticking her head in through the window, "Your father's friends with the cops, and they'll stop at nothing to stop them.  
"Hey don't worry, Jennifer," Keith gave her a farewell kiss, "This is the Bluesmobile. Nobody can catch it once it's going."  
"That's right," Rocky added, "This is the Ultimate Auto."  
"Well give me a call when you shack up for the night," Jennifer said, opening the door to let Buster and Katrina in the back seat.  
"Where are we staying again?" Mack asked Keith, "You weren't really open with us last night when you were printing it out."  
"I contacted Garrett Drew, he's one of the orphans Jake and Elwood saved," Keith explained, hand Mack the MapQuest directions, "He'll shelter us for the night down in Alton and direct us to the next safe house."  
"As long as we're down in Gator Bay for the Festival, that's all that matters," Jake said, sliding next to Elwood in the front seat.  
"Just don't do anything reckless on the highway," Zee said, squeezing his way over Rocky and Mack next to Jake, "I've had enough excitement two nights ago for a lifetime."  
"Well, only if our lives are in danger," Elwood conceded.  
"You will not speed, though," Cabel warned him form the back seat, "Speeding is immoral and against the law. You will be disciplined for it if you do it."  
"Uh, Jake?" Elwood shot his brother a quizzical glance.  
"Oh, forgot to mention, Elwood, as a result of being split into good and evil entities, his good side is now good to the point of nausea," Jake told him, "My advice is just live with him."  
Latifah stuck her head in the driver's window. "Are you sure you need me to come on this?" she asked the Brothers, "Because may I remind you I have a very big career that will be ruined for this."  
"Miss LaGrange, we need an agent to arrange for our playing at the various locations we'll be playing at, and until I can get Maury Sline to return my calls, you're our best option for that. If you love your career more than human life, please resume it by all means, but you'll just be enslaved by Hell like everyone else."  
Latifah sighed wearily. "I spent ten years in law school," she muttered to herself, "I must be out of my mind!"  
"You're not out of your mind," Jake called after her as she jumped in her car. He perked up and listened to the air. "Let's get going Elwood, the cops are on their way," he told his brother."  
"Fasten yours seatbelts everyone, we're starting our mission from God," Elwood said, starting the Bluesmobile's engine, "Gator Bay, here we come."  
"Godspeed to thee!" Reverend James blessed the Brothers and the band, who hurried tossed their gold into their car followed the Bluesmobile and Latifah's Volvo out of the junkyard.  
"You know it, Reverend!" Jake called after him. As they sped onto I- 55, he called out in parting, "We'll be back soon, Chicago!"  
  
"You see them!?" Zildrohar slammed the Head Nazi's face against the monitor, "Because you couldn't do them in, they are on the verge of finding the third part of the relic!"  
"Well that was just a minor failure," the Head Nazi said quickly, "My men and I will do them in before you can say eternal damnation."  
"See to it you do," Zildrohar hissed, "Or you'll be Ophiuchus's next meal!" he held his snake in the Head Nazi's face to emphasize his point.  
"Right," the Head Nazi put his hat on and rushed for the Sears Tower's door, yelling, "Gruppenfuehrer, steal the first car you see!"  
Zildrohar pressed the intercom button on the desk. "Brothers Ilvania and Voodshtap, to the front now!" he ordered. Moments later, two of his men ran up. "Go out to Idaho and put the racist preacher under our thumb," he told them, "Use this to ensure he complies." He handed them a cold gray box that was shaking around as if it were possessed. The two Heretics gulped. "Not that!" Ilvania gasped, "Mongor's spirit is too dangerous a controlling mechanism. Ever since God took away his body, he's been hell- bent on returning to his position as Satan's right-hand man!"  
"Which is why we're using him here!" Zildrohar growled, "Now do as I say!" He blasted his underlings with his staff, and they stumbled over each other as they rushed from the lobby. 


	11. The Black Diamond Riders and the Good Ol...

ELEVEN  
  
"Can we stop for dinner soon?" Zee asked, "I'm kind of hungry now."  
"Who else wants to eat?" Elwood asked the rest of his entourage. All their hands went up. "Okay, we'll stop at the next place," he said. He turned to Jake. "You need anything to eat?"  
"I no longer need any physical food," Jake said. He looked a bit disappointed. "That's the worst part of being dead," he explained, "Never being able to eat. I miss the fried chickens and pepper steaks."  
"How about I order some in your honor then, Jake?" Rocky asked with a smile.  
"If you'd like to," Jake shrugged.  
Elwood turned on the radio. "You up for dinner?" he asked the band.  
  
"Nope," Murphy told him, "You stop and eat; we'll go to the safe house."  
"As you wish," Elwood disconnected. He noticed a glowing sign to his right denoting a restaurant. "Here we are," he said, turning in. Then he noticed the name on the sign: BOB'S COUNTRY KITCHEN. He abruptly stopped short. "Why'd this have to be the first place?" he asked out loud.  
"So what's the difference?" Zee asked, unfamiliar with the Brothers' past run-ins with Bob.  
"You wouldn't know," Elwood said quickly.  
"I'm starving!" Katrina spoke up. Elwood shrugged. "Well, we lucked out last time, I guess we'll be OK again."  
"Just so as long as we don't have to do any more puffball diseases," Mack told him, "That one kind of made me feel a little low."  
"You won't have to," Jake said, "If worst comes to worst, I'll just generate a synergy that'll make them see us as something else."  
"You stay here, Armstrong," Elwood told the dog as he got out, "We'll get you some bones after we're done. The dog licked his face, apparently having subsided on even less than bones under Suntzman's thumb.  
The Country Kitchen was fairly crowded for the early evening. "How many?" the waitress asked them.  
"Nine, smo—non-smoking," Elwood said, noticing the kids closely.  
"This way," the waitress herded them to the nearest large table. "We'll be with you in a minute," she told them.  
"I know what I want," Elwood said, tossing his menu aside.  
"Let me guess, dry white toast," Keith said with a smile.  
"How'd you know that?" Elwood was amazed.  
"Oh. I've had enough contacts to know your eating habits," Keith said.  
There was a loud fanfare from the newly constructed stage section of the Country Kitchen, and Bob himself walked out on the stage. "Evening folks," he announced over the microphone, "I'm Bob and I hope you're enjoying your meals. Right now, for your entertainment, we'd like to present for your listening pleasure, the best country and western band out there, my old friend, direct from Nashville, put your hands together for the Good Old Boys!"  
Elwood dove instinctively under the table as his old nemeses strode out on stage. Lead singer Tucker McElroy took the mike. "Thanks Bob," he told his pal, "Like he said, we're the Good Old Boys, and we've got a great show for you tonight, and we'll start off with the recording that just landed us seven Country Music Awards, the most for one song."  
"Sound a little high and mighty, don't they?" Jake asked out loud, "Well I can fix that." He waved his finger, and Tucker, instead of singing his hit song, started crooning "I Will Survive"—in Gloria Gaynor's voice. The other Good Old Boys stopped playing and stared at their leader in total shock. Tucker, oblivious to this, started high kicking all over the stage, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. Boos started coming out the audience, who didn't like disco, and the beer bottles started flying. Bob ran over to his friend and started shaking him. "Tucker, get a hold of yourself!" he could be heard saying.  
There was a loud ruckus from outside the restaurant. The doors slammed open as about a dozen unshaven and uncouth-looking bikers wearing black leather jackets inscribed BLACK DIAMOND RIDERS plowed their way in. "Hey babe, give us all beer, as much as you got," the huge leader of the group leered at the first waitress they came across. "Move over!" he ordered a nice all-American looking family, who promptly jumped up and gave them the whole table. "Come on boys, let's clear this place out," he told his associates as they plopped down next to him.  
"Boy, they're not too pleasing, "Zee commented.  
"No kidding," Rocky was on his feet, burning with a tremendous rage that Elwood had never seen before. "Their my old gang," his cellmate said darkly, "The guys who set me up and ruined my life." He started to get up. Cabel grabbed his arm. "Violence is not warranted in this case," he tried to warn his fellow Brother.  
"This is further than you think, Cabel," Rocky pushed him aside. He tapped the head biker on the shoulder. "Mad Dog McMurdo, remember me?" he asked him roughly.  
The head biker turned to face him. "Can't say I remember," he said.  
  
"Maybe this will jog your memory!" Rocky delivered a hard right hook to his face. The other bikers jumped up, fists balled. "Rocky Topton," Mad Dog remembered now, "Funny to see you out again. How's life in Joliet treating you?"  
"You set me up you slug!" Rocky took another swing. Cabel again interceded. "Gentlemen, what we need here is brotherly love and peace," he said melodiously.  
"Shut up, retard!" Mad Dog slugged him in the face. He turned to Rocky and said, "If you think you scare me, you're dead wrong."  
"You should be scared, because the cops are on their way and..." Rocky started to bellow.  
"Okay Rock, I think you need to save room for the dessert," Elwood interrupted, dragging Rocky back to his table.  
"What's going on over here!?" Bob demanded, storming over, "Fighting ain't allowed in the Country Kitchen!"  
"I told them that," Cabel said, getting to his feet.  
"Wait a minute," Bob eyed Elwood closely, "I've seen you before."  
"Uh, I get that a lot," Elwood said quickly.  
"IT'S THEM BLUES BROTHERS!" came Tucker's voice from the stage. The singer was pointing straight at his enemies, looking possessed. "Aha!" Bob shouted, pointing an accusatory finger in Elwood's face, "I knew I knew you! You still owe me that three hundred dollars for beer twenty years ago!"  
"Well now's not the time, Bob, we're kinda broke right now," Elwood said quickly. He started taking steps backwards.  
"Oh no you don't, I want it now!" Bob stepped toward him.  
"Check please," Elwood yelled to the waitress. He waved for the others to follow him out. On the way out, he grabbed a fried chicken off an old man's plate. "It's for my dog," he explained hastily.  
"Come back here you petty thieves!" Bob yelled running after them. The Brothers piled into the Bluesmobile. Elwood tossed the chicken into the back seat to Armstrong. "Here's your meal," he told his pet.  
"Great, now I don't even get to eat!' Zee growled as Bob yanked hard on the locked door.  
"We'll find another place," Elwood started the old police car and pulled out onto the road again.  
The Good Old Boys emerged from the restaurant. "Need our help, Bob?" Tucker asked his friend.  
"Sure, Tucker, get your rifles and ax handles ready," Bob said, "We're going to hunt them down." As he and the country singers ran back into the country kitchen, the Black Diamond Riders came out and jumped on their bikes. "If Rocky talks, we could be in trouble," Mad Dog told his associates, "So let's wipe 'em out so he don't talk. After 'em, boys!"  
"YEAH!!" his fellow bikers roared. They revved up their bikes and zoomed off after the Bluesmobile.  
"So you've got a grudge with those guys?" Mack asked Rocky as the Bluesmobile tore down the highway at almost eighty miles an hour.  
"Those pigs sent me up the river!" Rocky growled, still looking infuriated, "It was fine the first couple of years riding with them, but once they started raping and pillaging through towns like there was no tomorrow, I told them I'd had enough, and they framed me for murder! I swore I'd get back at them, and if goodie two shoes back here hadn't stopped me...!"  
"Violence wasn't warranted in this case," Cabel reiterated.  
"Yeah, well tell me when...!" Rocky was cut off as gunfire ripped into the back of the Bluesmobile. The Black Diamond Riders were firing off sawed-off shotguns and were gaining ground. More shotgun blasts were coming from the distance, where the Good Old Boys' Winnebago was coming on strong. "Any escape ideas, Elwood?" Mack asked him.  
"I'm thinkin'," Elwood made a hard left turn, "Right now I need some space between me and them."  
But space wasn't forthcoming, as some of the bikers were now drawing alongside the old police car and slashing at it with sabers and their rifle butts. One of them smashed open the left passenger side window. Katrina and Keith slouched down as the saber came slicing in.  
"WATCH THE TRAIN!!" Zee shouted, pointing at the road ahead of them. A train was crossing it not more than a hundred feet ahead. At the last second Elwood swerved hard to the right and drove parallel to the train, the bikers and Good Old Boys still hot on their trail.  
"Well Elwood, have you done your thinking?" Jake's natural brother pressed him. Elwood noticed several baggage ramps alongside of the train. "Yep, and I got an idea now," he said, "It's somethin' I saw Buick Chase do in a movie once."  
"I think you mean Chevy Chase, Elwood,": Keith corrected him.  
"Whatever," Elwood took a good look at the train. He saw an open boxcar coming from about a quarter mile away.. He had to time it exactly right. Swerving toward the woods to his right, he swung back around, ducking to avoid the shotgun blasts coming through his windshield, and accelerated toward the nearest ramp. The Bluesmobile roared up it and rocketed through the open boxcar just in time, landing safely on the other side of the tracks. "YES!" Keith pumped his fists in excitement, "I've waited my whole life to do something like that!"  
"Have you?" Zee asked weakly. There was now a wet spot in his pants.  
  
On the old side of the tracks, Mad Dog waved for his men to follow him. "Come on boys!" he shouted in encouragement, "If those nuts can do that, so can we!" The Black Diamond Riders roared toward the next ramp down the tracks, tried to make the same jump through the boxcar, and failed miserably, slamming hard into the side of the car. "Just like in the movies!" one of the bikers grumbled as the train carried them down the tracks.  
"No matter," Mad Dog barked, "We'll keep following them. We can't let Rocky spill everything to the cops, or we'll all get chaired!"  
Behind them, the Winnebago skidded to a halt. "I ain't trying that," Tucker said, pointing to the bikes sticking out of the car.  
"Good," Bob agreed, "I don't want another mishap like last time with you and that stupid gas pedal."  
"That wasn't my fault for the last time, Bob!" Tucker shouted.  
"All right, it wasn't your fault," Bob said quickly. He looked out at the train, which seemed a mile long. "Go back to the crossing," he told his buddy, "Once this thing goes by, we'll see if we can find where they're going." 


	12. Advice from Curtis

TWELVE  
"What took you guys so long?" Lou asked as Elwood pulled the Bluesmobile into Garrett Drew's garage.  
"We had to make a little detour," Elwood explained as he hopped out of the car.  
"Is there still food?" Zee asked, half-stumbling out of the car from hunger, "I didn't get anything at the restaurant!"  
"He's got a few leftovers still warm if you want them," Steve said, pointing to the door leading into the kitchen of the quaint country home that was to be the party's refuge for the night.  
"Give me the big portion!" Zee stumbled into the kitchen. Laughing, most of the rest of the Brothers followed him in.  
"I'll wait a little," Elwood told the Band, "I ain't too hungry yet."  
  
"Of course. You never eat enough," Willie shrugged as he and his band mates went inside.  
Elwood stepped outside the garage. "Nice place, ain't it Jake?" he commented, "A lot better than what most of the kids in our generation could have hoped for."  
"No kidding," Jake said, "Some of them are already up there with me—drugged themselves out in the 60s and 70s—and they didn't really do much better than we did. Actually Elwood, we've had it luckier than most people if you think about it. We actually had our fifteen seconds of fame. Most of them never got even close to theirs."  
"Now if only we could extend those fifteen seconds longer," Elwood mused. Armstrong trotted over, his stomach full from the chicken. "Be glad you're a dog, Armstrong," Elwood said, scratching his pet behind the ears, "You don't got the baggage that we humans do. All you need is food and water."  
"Yep, you're right there," Jake agreed, "Sometimes when I see the whole of humanity up there in heaven, I wonder why some more deserving species wasn't made the dominant one. I mean, none of the rest of them has to tear down all the forests and pollute the air to live."  
"If you'd said that while you were alive, I'd think you'd flipped," Elwood said. He lit up a cigarette. "So Jake, did you ever decide who the front man's gonna be?" he asked his brother.  
"It's still not too clear, to be honest," Jake admitted, "They've each got their pluses and minuses. I might wait until after the Gator Bay gig before picking my true successor."  
"Well I hope you boys make up your mind soon, or you'll look real sloppy," came Curtis's voice behind them. Jake and Elwood jumped in shock at their mentor's sudden appearance. "Curtis, didn't I tell you to knock?" Jake said teasingly.  
"I figured the door was open," Curtis shrugged. He walked forward out of the darkness, glowing slightly. "What do you think about the lead singer, Curtis?" Jake asked him, "I don't think I can decide on my own."  
"The choice is entirely yours, Jake, but I saw your performance last night, and personally I've never seen the act more disorganized," Curtis said, "Somehow you've got to get that old symmetry back you used to have."  
  
"Well it's kind of hard to get it back if Jake's dead, Curtis," Elwood pointed out.  
"I meant that you need to look and act like a well-tuned machine, not a bunch of wannabes who've all got different agendas," Curtis said, "I have a solution for you, though. Before you go to your next gig, check in with Clarence Craycroft in Baton Rouge."  
"Clarence Craycroft?" Elwood asked, impressed, "THE Clarence Craycroft? The guy who dominated the rhythm and blues charts for four years running in the forties? The uncrowned king of blues?"  
"And my old partner," Curtis added.  
"Whoa!" Jake exclaimed, "You never told me that, Curtis!"  
"There was no need to until now," Curtis said, "You see, Clarence and I put together a successful act for a few years and swept through the heartland like a tidal wave, but then my mortal jealousy got the better of me. I wanted a bigger role in the act, and Clarence, who was rightfully the better singer, refused. So after a while we parted company, and he became a star and I ended up working with you orphans for the rest of my life. He's fallen on hard times himself now, and I think it would give him one more breath of life if he could bring back the blues again. Make him feel like a winner just one more time. And it would give me the satisfaction that I could make up for my stupidity in life, knowing he'd be helping my protégés, namely you two. Ask him to help you bring the band together, and if he doubts where you're coming from, give him this." He handed Jake a glowing card of some kind.  
"I will Curtis," Jake said, pocketing the card, "Any word on the intelligence front?"  
"Word has it that Hell will be making some heavy moves very soon," Curtis said, "And seeing how you boys have already incited a lot of people in this realm already so far, I'd advise you to keep as low a profile as possible for at least the next three days until we know for sure what they're up to. You've done a great job with the Relic so far, but getting the remaining pieces will be much harder."  
"We'll be careful, Curtis," Elwood said, "So, ya wanna go in and see Cab while yer here?"  
"I can't," Curtis said, looking very dejected, "The rule says that you can never have any contact with children you sire illegitimately, and thus Cabel and I are doomed to never meet face to face."  
"That stinks," Elwood commented. Then he felt the urge to ask the one burning question that had been eating him up for the last day or so: "Curtis, whatdya think about that modern jazz the kid talks about us doin' good playin'?"  
"Use your own thought, Elwood," Curtis said, and with a smile he vanished.  
"Boy, he sure goes quick," Elwood said, doing a sort of double take.  
  
"Oh yeah, he does it all the time," Jake said. He checked his (still broken) watch. "Well buddy, it's time for me to recharge again," he told Elwood, "I saw a church about two miles up the road when we came in here. See ya when I get back."  
"I'll be waitin'," Elwood said as he brother galloped off. "Can ya believe it, Armstrong, Clarence Craycroft!" he told the dog, shaking its face around, "I've always wanted to meet him! He was an idol of mine, just like Toto was probably yours. If he can't get the act in shape, no one can!" 


	13. First Encounter with the Cops

THIRTEEN  
"Indiana wants me, Lord I can't go back there!" Mercer sang along with the CD he was listening to entitled GIVE YOURSELF UP!: THE BEST COP SONGS. In the back seat, Seymour, Agent Orange, and General Storrs looked rather uncomfortable to be in his presence at the moment, especially when Ness howled along to the police siren parts of the song. "Uh, Mercer, are we looking for the Blues Brothers or what?" Agent Orange asked.  
"Of course we are, Will, it's just..." Mercer started to tell him.  
"Sir," came Mount's voice over the radio, "We've received word of the Blues Brothers, they're about five miles to the south of us. If we hurry we'll get them."  
"Good work Captain," Mercer told him. "You hear that men?" he announced to all the other units of his contingent following him, "They're ours to take! Let's hit it!"  
The cruisers' sirens roared to life. Inside his personal car, Suntzman stuck his siren on the roof. "And they don't have a clue that we're coming," he told Marvin gleefully.  
"Yep," Marvin nodded.  
"Now I'm wondering," Jack Lancaster spoke up from the back seat where he and Tony Danson were enjoying the ride, "No harm will come to Buster when we stop them, right?"  
"Your son will not be harmed, Jack," Suntzman told him, "I can personally guarantee you that."  
  
"There's got to be a better way of carrying these things around," Murphy complained as he lifted his keyboard into the back seat of the band's car.  
"Well where are we going to get a better way, Murph?" Steve posed.  
"Well maybe Jake could give us the better way," Murphy eyed the angel. Jake smiled mysteriously.  
"Guys," Keith announced, coming out of Garrett Drew's house, a paper in hand, "Our next contact is in East St. Louis, if we can get there by dark. My friends I told you about should reach us then."  
"Sounds good," Elwood said, tossing Armstrong's dog food he'd gotten off Drew into the trunk, "I guess we'll have to take..."  
"Shhhhh!" Jake said suddenly. He listened for a minute, then said, "The cops are coming. You guys head south on 13, we'll draw them away."  
"How do you know?" Matt asked. The sound of sirens in the distance solidified Jake's statement. "I hate having to do this over and over again!" Donald muttered as he and the band jumped in their car and sped off.  
"Elwood, I sure had better not be pulled over!" Latifah warned her client as he hopped into the Bluesmobile, "I'll say you coerced me into it!"  
"You'll be OK, Latifah, we're on a mission from God," Elwood told her as he fired up the engine.  
"Uh, we're not going to go too fast here, are we?" Zee asked, fastening his seatbelt incredibly tight.  
"It depends," Elwood shrugged. He pulled onto the highway just as the police caravan pulled up. "This is the Illinois Highway Patrol!" Mount yelled over his loudspeaker, "Surrender now!"  
"Come and get us, copper!" Rocky yelled out the window at him.  
"Oh God, not again, not again!" Zee moaned as the Bluesmobile started accelerating to a hundred miles an hour.  
"Get used to it," Mack told him, "We're always facing off with the cops. It's kind of our karma in life."  
"Well I should probably tell you I never liked thrill rides as a kid," Zee told him, "They made me nervous. Very nervous."  
"So what's so thrilling about this?" Rocky inquired.  
"YYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Zee screamed as Elwood made a hard right, demolishing a stop sign. He covered his eyed. "Tell me when it's over!" he moaned.  
"Slow down, "Cabel warned Elwood, "You are breaking the speed limit and the law!"  
"We don't have time for that now, Cab," Elwood told him, "We've got to..."  
"Obey the law!" Cabel threw his foot over the seat and tried to activate the brake. Elwood tried to shove him away, and the Bluesmobile as a result swerved into the other lane, where Elwood had to swerve to avoid a truck. "Knock it off and let me drive!" he protested.  
Behind them, Cabel's evil side was also trying to seize control of a car. "Speed up, damn it!" he yelled at Daniel, shaking him by the collar, "We're falling too far behind!"  
"Will you just let me drive, Commander Chamberlain!" Daniel shouted at him.  
"We can destroy them of you go faster, you ape!" Evil Cabel shouted, hitting the captain with his nightstick. Mount hit him back with his. "Do you want another demotion!" he bellowed, "Leave him alone!" Evil Cabel growled but backed off. Mount picked up his radio. "Attention all local units, we are in high speed pursuit of a black and white 1991 Ford Crown Victoria, license plate number BDR529. Approach with caution, they are highly dangerous."  
Inside the Bluesmobile, Jake blew another whiff of his sleeping clouds at Good Cabel, who went back to sleep. "Sorry Elwood," he told his brother, "He didn't mean anything."  
"I should hope...WHOA!!" Elwood had to swerve wildly to the left down a dirt road as local cops, who immediately took up pursuit, blocked his way. He almost immediately had to change course again, as several cars labeled MP came at him from the right. "They've got the damn army after us!" he complained.  
"Then let's surrender while we still can!" Zee proposed.  
"We don't surrender, you chicken!" Buster whacked him, "We're the Blues Brothers!"  
"That's my little buddy," Elwood smiled. He noticed an old rusted sign ahead saying BRIDGE WEIGHT LIMIT 2 TONS, ½ MILE. A devious smile crossed his face. He accelerated forward toward it. "Can this hold our weight, Jake?" he asked his brother, "Tell me now if it can't."  
"Do you have faith, Elwood?" Jake asked him. Elwood smiled and rocketed over the old, dilapidated covered bridge. It creaked horribly but managed to hold together. The cops weren't quite as lucky; no more than four of them managed to get on the span before it collapsed under their weight, spilling the cops into a creek.  
"Yes!" Rocky pumped his fists in delight as he watched the bridge fall down out the rear windshield. Armstrong barked in satisfaction.  
"Well, that's the end of that," Elwood said. He spoke too soon, however, for five more cop cars lurched out of the woods on their left. He spun around in a circle, thinking of the next way to get away. Jake thought that up for him, though. "Everyone fasten yourself in tight, we'll be arriving in Louisiana in five minutes," he told the others. "What do you mean we'll...?" Mack question was answered as Jake teleported to the back of the Bluesmobile, spread his wings, and pushed the car off at the speed of sound again before the astonished cops' eyes. They ground to a halt. "How'd he do that?" one asked the other, who shrugged.  
Back at the collapsed bridge, the lucky cruisers ground to a halt at the creek. "Are you guys all right?" Daniel called down to his fellow lawmen who'd taken the dip.  
"Fine, but they broke my watch!" one of them called up.  
"They're gone!" one of the cops who'd been following the Bluesmobile on the far side yelled over to the main contingent.  
"What do you mean they're gone!?" Mount shouted back.  
"One minute they were right in front of us, and the next they vanished," the trooper explained.  
"Well then, what are we standing around here for, men?" Mercer addressed his officers, "Let's get back on the road and find them."  
"Sir, this isn't going to look good to the press," Seymour told his boss as they strode back to the car.  
"What the press doesn't know won't hurt them, Seymour," Mercer told him with a wink.  
"Attention all agents in District 3," Agent Orange announced into his cell phone, "I'm putting an APB on the Bluesmobile. Apprehend and disable at all costs, I repeat, at all costs! That means kill the occupants of the vehicle if need be! Over and out." 


	14. The Legendary Clarence Craycroft

FOURTEEN  
  
Jake braked the Bluesmobile to a stop. "Here we are," he announced as he rematerialized inside the car.  
"Where's here?" Rocky asked.  
"Baton Rouge," Jake said, "And more specifically, Clarence Craycroft's home. Elwood, come with me."  
"Right," Elwood glanced down at his watch. Jake had taken them from Illinois to Louisiana in a mere four minutes.  
With Armstrong nipping at their heels, the two brothers entered the shabby apartment building before them and climbed up the stairs to the top floor. "Just like my old place," Elwood commented, noticing the serious decay on the walls.  
"I've seen a lot worse," Jake said. He knocked on the door at the far end of the hall. "Mr. Clarence Craycroft?" he called in.  
"Go away!" was the rather harsh response, "I don't want any!"  
"We're not selling anything," Jake told him, "we need your help."  
There was a clip-clop sound inside the apartment just before the door swung open. Clarence Craycroft, a large hulking African-American who was now blind and walking with a cane, brandished a sword wildly. "I don't take any visitors!" he bellowed.  
"We're here on the advice of Curtis Salamone, your old partner," Elwood said.  
"Don't mention his name to me, boy!" Clarence roared, "He stood me up after I put faith in him!"  
"Yeah, well, he's reformed now, and he told us you'd be of help," Jake said, "Now if you'd..."  
Clarence slammed the door in his face. Jake shook his head. "This is going to be a little harder than I thought," he told Elwood. The angel waved his hand at the door, and it opened before him. "Don't you come in here, damn it!" Clarence yelled, waving his sword at them again.  
"Mr. Craycroft, you're not going to stab us with that chicken," Jake said confidently.  
"What are you talking about? This isn't a chicken!" Clarence shouted, just then, before Elwood's astonished eyes, the sword transformed into a squawking chicken. Surprised, Clarence tossed it aside. "What do you want?" he asked, less angry now.  
"Mr. Craycroft, I'm the late Joliet Jake Blues, and this is my still early brother Elwood and his dog," Jake explained, "Curtis was our sort-of legal guardian, and he taught us everything we wanted to know about the blues. Last night he told us that we should come to you in making our band more dynamic, like it used to be."  
"We're on a mission from God," Elwood added. He was impressed by Clarence's dwelling; the walls were lined with photos of the musician in his prime, alongside such figures as Cannonball Adderley and John Coltrane. A couple of photos had a figure blacked out, which he assumed had once been Curtis.  
"Oh boy, I must have had too much to drink last night," Clarence said to himself, sitting down on his sofa, "Now I'm being visited by the dead! And I thought my life couldn't get any worse!"  
"So what do you say, Mr. Craycroft?" Jake asked him.  
"Forget it!" Clarence snapped, "I'm retired! The blues are dead, in case you haven't read the papers lately! I wish they could have lasted longer, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. And for your information, there is no God, boy! If there were, my wife wouldn't have run off with another man, and my son would still be alive today and not at the bottom of the Mississippi!!"  
"The Lord can't cover anything, Clarence," Jake said, walking toward him, "But one thing he's good at is making the lame walk and the blind see." He abruptly spit in Clarence's eyes. "Hey, what do you think you're...!" Clarence shouted, wiping the spit away. He stopped, looking shocked. "I...I can see again," he murmured softly.  
"You think that's impressive, watch this," Jake gave Clarence's leg a yank. The old man's cane clattered to the floor as he rose to his feet with perfect equilibrium. "How'd you do that?" he asked Jake, amazed.  
"Now do you believe in the existence of the Lord our God?" Jake asked him, a big smile on his face, "By the way, Curtis asked me to give you this." He handed Clarence the glowing card Curtis had given him last night. Clarence examined it closely, and then said, "Okay, I suppose I could give you boys some instructions, but you do realize that you're probably not going to make much of an impression on people."  
"That's what you say now," Jake said, "Elwood, go down and tell the guys to come on up and bring their stuff."  
"But they ain't here, yet, Jake," Elwood pointed out, "They're days behind us."  
"Really?" Jake split himself in two. One of his halves rushed out of the apartment at light speed, and return fifteen seconds later to fuse back together with his other half. "They are now," the reunified Jake said, "So go get them and bring them up."  
  
About ten minutes later, the Blues Brothers Band was all set up, ready for a mock performance. Clarence looked them over carefully. "I still think you've got too many people singing here," he informed Jake, "But if you're convinced that you want to go with nine vocalists, I won't stop you."  
"Ten, actually, if you count Armstrong here," Elwood pointed to his dog, who was already playing some notes on his harmonica.  
Clarence shook his head at the thought of a dog being part of a band. "All right then, who's the lead singer?" he asked the group.  
"I am," Rocky, Mack, and Zee all said at once. They glared at each other and snapped simultaneously, "No you're not, I am!"  
"Okay, okay," Clarence waved his hands, "I can see you really need some assistance in prioritizing your arrangements here. Why don't we set up here and have a run through so I know what I'm working with here."  
"Right," Elwood turned to the band, "Gimme Rubber Biscuit, one, two, one, two, three, four." The band started playing, and everyone started singing together in a muddled mess. "Hold it, hold it!" Clarence shouted, "This isn't getting us anywhere! Now let's try it again, this time one at a time. You first, big and hairy."  
The band started up the song again from the top, Rocky taking the lead. Clarence cut him off in midstream again. "No offense, boy, but you can't sing well," he told the former biker, "You should get used to being a second tier guy. You next, my friend," he said, pointing to Mack. The former bartender sang about six lines before Clarence said, "Nice, but let's see what this fellow has to offer," and pointed to Zee. Zee smiled nervously and took the lead on the next run-through of the song. This time Clarence looked pleased. "I think you've got your lead man right here," he told Jake.  
"Good work, Zee," Jake slapped his blood brother on the back.  
"Well as long as there's no more of those fast chases coming, I guess I can live with it," Zee said.  
"So now that we've got the lead singer down pat, I think we should order the rest of you," Clarence said, studying the singers, "When I was on the road, we chose our backup singers carefully for the way they'd interact with the main singers. You two are good as second tier guys," he told Rocky and Mack, who managed to smile over their wounds of not being chosen first, "You've got the soul and rhythm, but I think you work best as first- string backups. "You sir," he pointed to Cabel, "And you," to Keith, "You're the third tier. If you can play any instruments and sing, you'd be helping the cause a lot."  
  
"Hey, we're the band!" Steve spoke up.  
"I wasn't questioning that, sir," Clarence told him, "But I made myself learn piano lessons so I would be able to keep going in case a regular band wasn't available, so I think you should all do the same. And you two tykes," he told Buster and Katrina, "Are the fourth tier. As long as you know how to dance well and put on an occasional burst of song, you'll be pleasing to the crowd. Besides, I don't think many people would shell out big bucks to hear some kids singing blues music by themselves. It would be too shocking to folks today. And speaking of dancing, let's work on your choreography next. You need to look like a synchronized, well- oiled machine, not like a bunch of idiots running around like you're being attacked by fire ants."  
"Well, we're a little rusty," Elwood admitted, "I've been in prison the last two years, and most of my friends here weren't around me much if at all."  
Clarence snorted. "I could have figured as much," he said to nobody in particular. "All right then," he told the musicians, "Let's work on style and form until we get it right. You're not on any time constraints, just so I know?"  
"Nope, we're good for the next twenty-nine hours or so," Jake told him, "Then we've got a gig at the Gator Bay Fall Festival."  
"Well we're not leaving this apartment until I get you all and perfectly ready for that," Clarence said, adding under his breath, "Or until I crack."  
"Sounds good," Elwood said, "Okay guys, let's trying Hey Bartender now, one, two, one, two, three, four."  
  
So preoccupied with getting back into shape were the Brothers that there was no way they could notice the guy next door dialing his phone and asking, "Hello, is this the FBI? I've heard you've been looking for the Blues Brothers. They're right here next door to me now. A day and a half until you get here? Okay, I'll keep an eye on them for you until you get here, but I hope a reward is forthcoming from you guys, because I'm really in debt right now." 


	15. The Gator Bay Gig

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Starting with this chapter, I'm upping the story to PG-13 just to be on the safe side for some of the material I have in mind.

**FIFTEEN **

"Are you there yet?" Zildrohar demanded to Ilvania and Voodshtap as they zoomed over the Idaho skies on sawgliders—glowing buzz saw-shaped disks that were standard demon transportation in Hell.

"We're almost there, Great Zildrohar," Voodshtap told the holographic image of his boss being generated from his communicator.

"When you succeed in your mission, bring Pastor Bedford down to Louisiana," Zildrohar told him, "Our quarry lies there on the verge of obtaining the third part of the relic. I have sent an agent from Hell ahead to cover it, but you must have support for us up there if we are to bottle them up. Over and out."

He disappeared from the image. Ilvania and Voodshtap eased their sawgliders down into the woods just outside the Caucasian Provinces white supremacist compound. "Are you sure Mongor's spirit is a good idea?" Ilvania inquired, glancing hesitantly at the rattling box in his hand.

"We have no choice," Voodshtap admitted. With determined looks on their faces, they strode out of the woods into a crowd of ugly-looking people heading for a barbecue pit in the center of the compound. "Excuse me sir," Ilvania asked a man in a Klansman suit, "Where may we find Pastor William Bedford?"

"Third cabin down on your left," the Klansman told them. The two Heretics strode over to the cabin in question. A gigantic bearded man in a military suit barred the door. "No entry," he gruffly told them, his arms crossed.

"We are holy messengers," Voodshtap told him, "We have a great gift for Pastor Bedford."

"No entry," the Neanderthal militiaman repeated.

"Who is it, Lieutenant?" a balding man in black robes stuck his head through the door.

"Are you Pastor Bedford?" Voodshtap asked.

"No, I'm his aide, Alderman Alderman," the bald man told him, "What do you want?"

"We are holy messengers with a gift for the good pastor," Ilvania told him, sneaking a snigger at Voodshtap over the irony of the situation.

Alderman Alderman thought over the request a moment, then said, "Sure, I guess it won't hold up the speech too much. Let them in, Lieutenant."

The Heretics squeezed their way past the hulking military man into Pastor Bedford's cabin. Caucasian Provinces posters hung over all the walls, as well as blown-up photos of Hitler. Pastor Bedford, a gray-haired man in a suit and tie, was hunched over his desk. "What do you gents want?" he asked the visitors.

"Pastor Bedford, we are messengers of God," Voodshtap smirked, "We bring for you on his behalf for your many years of service the gift of youth."

"Really?" Pastor Bedford looked skeptical.

"Really," Ilvania told him, "Just look in here."

He handed the so-called holy man the box with Mongor's spirit. Pastor Bedford shook his head and opened it. Immediately a blast of red light shot out of the box and engulfed him. He screamed in revulsion as it engulfed him. Alderman Alderman rushed forward to try to assist his boss, but the Heretics held him back. Then, just as quickly as the light had come about, it disappeared. Ilvania and Voodshtap smiled knowingly at each other, knowing the old man representing Satan's mortal enemy was now under their thumb. Pastor Bedford climbed slowly to his feet. "Your Eminence, are you all right?" Alderman Alderman asked him, worried.

"I feel great, Alderman," Pastor Bedford said, a wicked smile spreading on his face, "In fact, I've never felt more better in my life. The second coming of Christ is at hand. We must rally the men to the cause." He ran to the door, ordering, "Lieutenant Armbrister, call the members of Caucasian Provinces to the meeting grounds. We must announce the coming of Christ."

About five minutes later, the two Satan worshippers found themselves seated next to Alderman Alderman on the dais in the middle of the compound as Pastor Bedford spoke to his racist masses. "Brothers and sisters," he rambled, "Dark forces are rumbling over this world. The forces of Hell have sent forth their emissaries, two brothers named Blues. They support all that is evil, and are sworn to spread their doctrine to the entire world! It is up to us on behalf of decent white people everywhere to wipe them out, and the good men of heaven here have agreed to arm us with holy weaponry to destroy them. We must rally all to the cause!"

As the people broke into applause, Pastor Bedford became so overcome with excitement over his "holy crusade" that dark energy shot out of his eyes and obliterated a giant hemlock tree about five hundred feet away. His masses were impressed. "Yes my friends," the pastor continued, "Our friends here have imbibed me with the power of the Holy Spirit! I am invincible! And so is our cause!"

The Heretics couldn't help laughing at the utter irony of the situation.

Jake turned his heavenly radio up to its highest frequency. "Come in Reverend James," he said into it, "How are things going in Chicago?"

"So far so good," Reverend James told him on the other end, "The meter's still only in the purple section."

"On Sunday see if you can get as many people as possible into your church," Jake said, "We need a highly positive counteraction for the dark vibes."

"I'll hold services every day if need be," Reverend James vowed.

"Please do," Jake said, "Call you later."

The Bluesmobile pulled into the lot of the Gator Bay Fairgrounds. The training with Clarence had gone reasonably well enough that both Jake and Elwood were sure the band was good enough for the show they had planned for tonight. The former blues legend hopped out of Latifah's car as it pulled up next to the Bluesmobile. "I'm hoping you boys won't let me down," he told the Brothers, "I don't want everything I told you to go to waste."

"It won't," Jake reassured him. He turned to the Band as they pulled up. "Let's get everything set up now, so we won't have to waste too much time later in the night," he told them.

"You planning on escaping in a hurry, Jake?" Mr. Fabulous asked with raised eyebrows.

"Who said anything about leaving?" Jake shrugged. The band shook their heads skeptically.

The entourage made their way through the fairgrounds to the large outdoor stage at the far end. A pair of people was waiting for them. "Guys, let me introduce you to Sam and Dave," Keith introduced two men who looked only a few years older then himself to the Brothers, "Thanks to Jake here they were able to come down earlier than I thought. Sam's the best special effects expert out there, Dave knows sound and lighter better than anyone alive. Together I think they can make us very visually appealing."

"Nice to meet ya," Elwood shook both men's hands, then asided to Jake, "Sam and Dave. How fitting."

"I've scanned the stage, Mr. Blues," Sam told him, pointing to the center of the structure, "There's hidden trap door there. "I've been thinking that we might have you all be raised up onto the stage on it to start the show. I can feed in smoke to come up the shaft with you to make it more dramatic. How does that sound?"

"Good enough for me," Elwood shrugged.

"We'll need you guys to record levels on the mikes so we can get your tones on correctly," Dave told them, "Show me how you're going to be on stage to start and I'll know how to light you all."

"Well it seems you guys are all worked out," Murphy told the others, "Okay guys, we might as well put on the fruit zoot suits."

The rest of the band nodded and headed for the bathrooms. The Blues Brothers climbed up on stage and looked it over. "Looks like it'll do well," Mack commented, "Hopefully we'll be able to put on a good..."

"Do you hear something!?" Zee held up his hand. Sirens could be heard in the distance. "Crap, the cops sure are efficient!" Elwood groaned, we'd better get into hidin' quick!"

"Under the stage," Jake gestured to the secret entrance.

Six hours later, after darkness had fallen, Mercer strode about the midway with his associates. "They're bound to show any minute now," he reassured them, "We had great intelligence. And besides, they're usually punctual with their shows."

"I should hope so," Agent Orange said, "because if I deployed all my men for no reason whatsoever, I'm going to look like a laughingstock in the department."

"You're not a laughingstock," Mercer reassured him.

"You know that, but they don't," the FBI man said nervously.

"It's about five minutes to showtime," Mount checked his watch, "And Mr. Mercer, keep in mind that we can't afford any orange whips."

"Damn!" Mercer grumbled. He picked up his radio. "All interior units, please converge on the stage at this time," he announced to his men, "Exterior units, make sure you have all exits to the fairgrounds covered."

Underneath the stage, the Blues Brothers stood nervously on the trap door. They'd had to have their dinners funneled to them by a reluctant Latifah while the cops weren't looking and had their microphone tests taken from a hidden set Dave had been forced to put under the stage for them. "Two minutes," Elwood said, checking his own watch, pushing down the handcuff holding his briefcase to his wrist, "Let's hope this smoke and fire stuff don't kill us."

"I'll bring you back to life if you are, Elwood," Jake reassured him, "Now after two songs you break away with me. I've sensed the relic piece is underneath the lake behind us. The rest of you guys cover for us until we get back. And now, it's showtime." He produced a walkie-talkie and activated it. "Boys, give us the intro," he told the band.

On the stage, the band started into "Can't Turn You Loose." "Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present for your entertainment, direct from Calumet City, Illinois, the last bastion of rhythm and blues in the nation," Latifah announced over the PA system from a prefabricated piece of paper, "Please put your hands together for Elwood J. Blues and his friends, the Blues Brothers."

Jake threw the switch to the winch control of the trap door. "Godspeed, Elwood," he told his brother as he rose amid Sam's smoke to the stage top. Although Elwood could see very little through the smoke, he could make out the cops and FBI men standing in the background quite easily and wondered how in God's name they were going to get out of the fairgrounds without getting caught. As the music came to a crescendo, he held out his arm for Zee to unlock his briefcase. He withdrew his harmonica and dropped the briefcase behind Willie's drums. "Thanks for coming folks," he told the crowd, "We hope you'll like our show tonight. Since we're in the south here, I'd like to dedicate this first song to a great southern city I've always wanted to visit. For your listening pleasure, here's 'Going Back to Miami.' One, two, one, two, three, four."

The band struck up the song. Elwood turned the mike over to Zee, who dominated with the song, much to Elwood's pleasure. He dropped to his knees and did a harmonica duet with Armstrong. The dog was relishing its time in the spotlight. He glanced over at Clarence, who smiled in approval of the song. Indeed, Elwood felt reenergized to be back on stage, performing the music that ran through his blood.

In the back of the crowd, Mercer snapped along to the beat. "You've got to admit," he told his colleagues, "They've still got it after twenty years."

"Mr. Mercer!" Daniel raised his eyebrows.

"Well they do!" Mercer protested.

As the song ended, Elwood took the mike again. "And now, for your entertainment, Brother Zee and Mighty Mack will perform an old favorite of mine, 'Flip, Flop, and Fly.' One, two, one, two, three, four."

He walked to the back of the stage, where Jake was now waiting. "Dance around and look natural," his brother told him, "We'll sneak off in a minute, and it can't look jarring or suspicious."

"Whatdya suppose we'll have to face this time, Jake?" Elwood had to know.

"I have no clue," Jake admitted. He looked on both sides to see FBI agents starting to close in on either side of the stage, already suspicious. "Let's move," Jake said, leading Elwood off the stage. No sooner were they off the back than the agents surrounded them. "Hold it you!" one of them yelled.

"You don't want us to hold it," Jake force-waved at them, "You want to throw your weapons in the lake and go home and rethink your lives."

The agents blindly did just that. Jake led Elwood over to the water—and proceeded to kiss him right on the lips. "What the hell was that all about!?" Elwood demanded.

"Making sure you'll be able to breathe underwater," Jake told him, "I don't know how deep the bottom is. Just follow me."

He dove into the lake without bothering to undress at all. Elwood shrugged and dove in after him. He was surprised how well he could breathe in water—almost as well as he could breathe air. The water was thick with algae, but he could still make out Jake swimming ahead of him. The angel dove for the lakebed, then skimmed along the bottom for several yards until he reached what looked like a large handle sticking out of the silt. Motioning for Elwood to stand back, he gave it a yank. A secret door opened up, revealing a glowing light inside. The brothers slipped inside, where they found themselves facing a gigantic maze that seemed to go on forever. "Ya mean we gotta go through that!?" Elwood asked, not really wanting to do it.

"'Fraid so," Jake said.

"Well how're we gonna find our way out after we get what we need?"

"Through this," Jake produced a vial from his pocket and dumped some gold dust on the ground. "We'll mark the trail," he said, "Just gotta watch out for hidden obstacles."

They slowly entered the maze. Elwood made sure to stay just behind Jake and not get lost. Jake turned left, then right, then left again. They made good progress for a while, but then about halfway through they turned another corner and came across a sleeping hellhound. "SShhhhhhh," Jake indicated. They tiptoed around it, but unfortunately Elwood tripped and fell over on the dog's back, waking it up in a flurry of barking. "Nice doggy," he gulped as it lunged toward him.

Jake pulled a string sausages from his pocket. "Here boy, fetch," he directed tossing it toward the hellhound. When it finished eating that, he produced a longer string and tossed it several rows backwards. The hellhound leaped over the partitions after it.

"Try to be more careful," Jake told Elwood, "We can't afford any more of those."

Elwood nodded. After a few more turns, they came across a large patch of quicksand. Elwood hung on tight to Jake as he leaped over it. Then a little while later, they found the route blocked by a giant spider web. Jake solved this problem by electrocuting the web with his hands, destroying it and the giant spider that was perched on top ready to attack them. Finally, about twenty minutes after they entered the maze, they turned right and found themselves in the center. "The next piece of the relic," Jake said, pointing to it. The mantle of the relic, with a cross-shaped indentation in the middle where the last two pieces would go, stood on a pedestal lit by another magic beam of light. "Just got to watch out for any last traps," Jake said as they advanced toward it.

"I wouldn't worry about traps, Jake," said a cold voice from behind them, "I'm more than bad enough for you." Jake looked deathly pale as he turned to face his nemesis. "Hi honey," he said weakly, "Fancy us meeting again like this."


	16. The Wrath of Camille Zlatopec

SIXTEEN 

"You never told me she went to hell, Jake," Elwood said. He was appalled to find they were once again facing Camille Zlatopec, who stood there with fire almost literally burning in her eyes. "That's right," Jake's one-time fiancé said, "I blew up an office building in Springfield and got caught in the explosion. A little job asked by the militia group I joined after Jake died. I've been waiting for you, Jake."

"Yeah, well, honey, now's kind of not the time to bring the past back up," Jake said nervously, "If it's okay, we'd just like to take the relic and go."

"I think not, Jake," Camille said darkly, "You're going to stay right here and suffer the consequences."

"Well I think the consequences should be...YIPE!!" Jake hit the ground as Camille breathed a huge fireball out of her mouth. "Now look angel...!" he pleaded.

"That's demon, not angel, as far as you're concerned!" Camille snarled. Her hands formed into two massive blocks, which she started swinging wildly at Jake. Jake somehow managed to duck all the blows. "There's no reason to be doing this!" he begged, shrinking his head to the size of a pin to avoid a blow, "The Heretics don't care about you! They're just using you! And if it means anything, I'm sorry about everything!"

"It's too late for sorry, Jake!" Camille growled. She threw one more punch that nicked Jake in the chest.

"Hey, go pick on someone your own...someone in hell like you!" Elwood threatened her.

"Like you, dummy?" Camille turned her arms into flamethrowers and unleashed a torrent of hellfire at Elwood. He crawled along the floor, feeling the incredible heat inches from his face.

"No one tries to kill my brother!" Jake whacked Camille in the back of the head. She turned very slowly to him. "That Jake," she said softly, "Was the last mistake you'll ever make!" She turned her face into an anvil and gave Jake a brutal head butt. Jake yowled and staggered around dazedly. Camille reformed her right hand into a pile driver and extended it over the mantle of the relic. "Next one who comes near me gets to see this smashed," she warned.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jake yelled.

"Oh yeah? Watch me," before both brothers' horrified eyes, Camille shattered the mantle into a thousand pieces. "I could care less about humanity," she said, "They're treacherous slugs. Just like you, Jake."

"If we didn't observe chivalry in heaven, I'd tear you apart right now!" Jake shouted.

"Too bad," Camille tutted, "In Hell we can do whatever the hell we want. Like this, for example." She charged at Jake and leaped in the air, her leg outstretched. Jake ducked the first kick but wasn't able to react in time as she transformed her other foot into a wrecking ball and connected right with his face, sending him flying hard into the maze wall. "Sugar please,..." he tried to beg.

"No more pleading Jake," Camille strode over and put her hand on his face, turning it into molten steel, which promptly hardened, locking Jake to the floor. "Just accept that your time's come." He other arm dissolved into a long blade. "Enjoy the black abyss, Jake," she sniggered, raising it high above his heart.

"DON'T!!" Elwood grabbed the blade just before she could run Jake through. He pulled back on it as hard as he could. Camille had more than enough strength to overpower him on it, but the disruption provided enough time for Jake to burn his way out of the metal over his face. "Okay honey, now you've really gotten me mad!" he growled. He blew the hurricane-force winds from his mouth and pinned Camille against the wall much like he had the drug dealers. "Now breathe this!" he bellowed, puffing out a pink cloud of some sort. It settled into place over Camille's face. "If you think any of your tricks..." Camille started to yell, but broke into hysterical laughter. She rolled around on the floor, paralyzed by it.

"Laughing gas," Jake explained to Elwood as he transformed his own arm into a vacuum and started sucking up all the pieces on the floor, "It's only hold her for about five minutes, though, so we'd better get a move on."

He sprouted wings and took to flight back toward where they'd entered the maze. "Why didn't we just do this the first time?" Elwood had to ask.

"That would have been cheating, and there is no cheating in heaven, "Jake said with a slight hint of valor. Moments later they'd cleared the surface of the lake and were swimming back to the stage. The band was in the closing stages of performing "Soothe Me." Jake and Elwood snuck quietly onto the stage, hoping no one had noticed their absence in the crowd. It seemed to Elwood that the audience was rather enthusiastic about the blues music. "Maybe I spoke too soon the other day about the blues being washed up," he thought optimistically.

The song came to an end. Jake walked over to Zee, who'd been on lead mike since they'd left. "Let me talk to them," he asked.

"Sure, if you say so," his blood brother said, handing the microphone to him. Jake strode into the center of the stage, accompanying by murmurs of excitement and shock from the audience. "We hope you liked our show tonight," he told the public, "Yes, it's me, Joliet Jake." He ignored the widespread sniggers and continued, "Our newest member, Calumet Keith, has suggested we do some more modern songs to augment our library, so here's modern one in which we'd like to ask you to be more cordial to each other. Don't waste your lives on false idols, because there is only one true path to happiness. One, two, one, two, three, four."

He force-waved at the band, who started up a melody that sounded a little familiar to Elwood. "Elwood, get the car ready, we're leaving after this one," Jake whispered in his ear. Elwood nodded and pulled out the Bluesmobile's remote control. "Sister Christian, oh the time has come," Jake bellowed into the mike, "And you know that you're the only one to say okay." The other Brothers, knowing the tune, joined in. Elwood, unfamiliar with the lyrics, stuck to playing the harmonica with Armstrong, all the while maneuvering the Bluesmobile into position in front of the stage. No sooner did he pull the trigger to open the doors, however, then there was a tremendous roar from behind the stage. "I think she's back, Jake," he whispered nervously to his brother.

"Get in, I'll hold her off," Jake promised him. Elwood waved to the others, and the band slowly left the stage one at a time. In the crowd, the authorities were eyeing it suspiciously. "Something's definitely not right here," Mount said warily.

"Yeah," Mercer agreed, "The day they'd start performing Sister Christian is the day that pig start flying."

"Wake up, Mercer, they're getting away!" General Storrs yelled at him. He pulled out his radio. "Everyone report to the exits now; we have an escape in progress!" he ordered his men.

On stage, Camille leaped over Murphy's piano, boiling with rage. "You're dead meat, Jake!" she screamed at him. Her arms dissolved this time into Tommy guns.

Jake shifted his head into Tony Montana's. "Say hello to my little friends!" he yelled at her in a Hispanic falsetto. Out of nowhere, millions of small birds dived at Camille, sending her running for cover.

"Passenger pigeons?" Cabel asked Jake as he jumped in the Bluesmobile, pointing at the birds.

"Hey, animals have spirits too," Jake said, "Where else do you think they'd go after humanity wiped them out? Floor it Elwood."

Elwood gassed the Bluesmobile toward the nearest fairground exit. The army personnel blocking the gates waved frantically for him to stop, but he ignored them and smashed right through the MP cars blocking the way out. "By the way," Jake told him over the wail of police sirens revving up behind them, "Head for L.A. The next piece is under Universal Studios."


	17. Reshuffling and Dividing

SEVENTEEN

"Ya can't leave!!" Elwood protested, "We're like second cousins twice removed! Closer even!"

"Forget it Elwood, this is it!" Willie growled as he loaded his personal belongings into the taxi he'd hailed down at the bus station the group had stopped at, "I'm tired of running from the cops and constantly ducking from engagement to engagement! I'm going back to Chicago, and none of Jake's fancy shmancy holy stuff'll make me change my mind this time!"

"I agree with that assessment," Murphy added, tossing in his own stuff, "I could get more excitement from the Double-Up Lounge, if it's even still standing."

"You always want to hit the big time, Elwood," Willie sniggered as he and Murphy climbed into the cab, "Let's see you do it without a drummer or keyboardist." He and Murphy chuckled as they sped off into the night. Elwood groaned in disappointment. He was hoping to keep the band together this time, but desertion had now actually happened, and the remaining band members looked like they'd stroll off into the sunset at the drop of a hat themselves. At least his fellow brothers looked like they wanted to keep the faith at the moment.

"He's right," Steve said, "We're screwed without them. I think this band just lost its juice."

"Oh ye of little faith," Jake snorted, "Didn't you think I would have a backup plan?"

"Probably, but we hoped you wouldn't invoke it and keep us stuck with you," Tom sighed.

"Sorry to disappoint you then," Jake split himself into three selves. "Don't go anywhere," all three of them told the party, then dashed off to Lord knew where. Five seconds later, he was completely back. "Gentlemen, meet Paul "the Shiv" Shaffer, Steve "Getdwa" Jordan, and Tom "Triple Scale" Scott, our replacements," he announced grandly.

"You're using my guys?" Zee was both surprised and impressed.

"Zee, what just happened?" Jordan demanded, looking shocked to suddenly be in Louisiana, a sentiment that appeared to be shared by his bandmates, "Who are these guys?"

"We're the Blues Brothers, "Elwood told him, shaking his hand, "Thanks for joinin' the band."

"Wait a minute, we haven't joined anything yet!" Paul protested, "What's going on here anyway!?"

"We're on a mission from God," Elwood said.

"We needed a keyboardist and drummer, so you were the best I could find on just short notice," Jake told them.

"He's dead," Elwood pointed out.

"I see," Scott said numbly, "And then just why am I here?"

"For years I always wanted a fourth horn, and since you were conveniently available, I figured, what the heaven, might as well bring you too," Jake told him, "And from what I've seen, you're great with a sax."

"Does this mean you're pushing me out, Jake!?" Lou demanded, looking quite upset.

"Not at all, Lou; in fact, you're still our number one sax," Jake reassured him, "He'll have to follow your lead."

"Thanks, you bring me down and make me a second banana; go figure," Scott muttered.

"Actually this is good for me," Tom said, "Now I can stick to just the trombone."

"Now this is just temporary, isn't it?" Paul inquired, "Because I got a big deal from a friend of mine who might get me a spot at CBS and..."

"You won't worry about CBS for now," Jake force-waved him quiet. "Now you guys go bond, and we'll be on the road again soon."

"You better know what you're doing here, Zee," Jordan warned his former boss as the band shuffled off, "Because if this is just some stunt to get us back in the till, I'll sue."

"Believe me, Getdwa, I'm not calling the shots with this one," Zee admitted.

Clarence, who'd been mostly silent since the show had ended, confronted Jake and Elwood. "I need to discuss something of importance with you two about the act," he told them, "Alone."

"This way then," Jake led them into the nearest restroom. "You're going to have to dump the long-haired guy," Clarence told them

"Why?" Elwood asked.

"Well, quite frankly, he couldn't sing if his life depended on it," Clarence said, "He's a sore thumb in your group's fabric. You'd be much better without him."

"Well, I know he ain't up to yer standards, Clarence, but I did promise to bring him along for redemption," Elwood pointed out.

"Sorry Elwood, but my mind's made up," Clarence said firmly, "If you want me to tell him, it's OK with me."

"Sure," Elwood shrugged in resignation, "I think you'd better do the tellin'."

Clarence nodded and walked out. Elwood bowed his head. "You're guilty over it, aren't you?" Jake inquired, "Well, don't worry, you didn't make a mistake bringing him."

"But his heart's gonna get broke," Elwood told him, "He's always wanted to sing with us. How'dya think he'll take bein' told he's no good?"

The sound of something being slammed hard to the ground outside answered that question. Jake and Elwood stuck their heads out of the door to see Rocky hailing down another cab, his face contorted with a mixture of sadness and rage.

"Don't worry, Elwood," Jake reassured his brother, "I can guarantee you he'll be back, and he'll be able to provide us with an even more useful service than his voice."

About fifteen minutes later, the Brothers were sneaking inside a junkyard a few blocks away. "Remind me why we're doing this again?" Mack asked.

"I've been thinking that if we split up, we might make it harder for the cops and Satanists to pin us down," Jake explained, "I'm the type of person that likes to stay several steps ahead of the competition. And there's our diversion vehicle."

He pointed to an old broken down police car that had a strange similarity to the Bluesmobile. Jake waved his arms and the car was magically restored to new. "McTier, you, Chamberlain, and Danson take this one north and head out to L.A. on I-80 West," Jake told the three of them, "When you hit San Francisco, head south on I-5 and meet up with us in Sherman Oaks."

"Why Sherman Oaks?" Mack asked.

"Because we've got a big contact there that'll house us," Keith explained.

"The rest of us will go to L.A. over I-10," Jake went on. He handed Mack a large cross he'd produced from seemingly up his sleeve. "If you're attacked by any evil spirits, hold this up and have a load of faith," he explained, "It won't fail to get rid of them. When you need to contact us, set the radio to channel number 777. We'll leave our line open 24/7, since that's the way God does it with his."

"Whatever you say," Mack shrugged. He, Cabel, and Keith climbed into the car and started it up.

"See ya in L.A.," Elwood waved goodbye to his comrades as they pulled out into traffic. "Do ya really think it's a good idea to split us up, Jake?" he asked his brother, "I mean, they could strike them and we'd never know about it."

"Oh I'd know about it Elwood, trust me," Jake told him, "Let's get back to the Bluesmobile and hit the road; the cops'll be here soon, and I need to get started on putting the relic back together as soon as possible."

"Can't we help?" Buster asked.

"Sorry kid, but only us angels can reassemble relics," Jake said, "And since she literally shattered it into a million pieces, it's going to be really complicated."


	18. Round Two with the Cops

EIGHTEEN

"We're rolling Mr. Mercer, and, action," Seymour directed his boss toward the film camera.

"Hey folks, Burton Mercer and Ness here on the road in east Texas after the Blues Brothers," Mercer said, leaning up against the closest cop car, Ness in his lap, "You know, the last two times they've gotten out of prison, they've caused untold millions of dollars worth of property damage. You can thank George Haroldson's poorly lax justice standards for allowing this to happen. I think the fact that I'm out here actively chasing them down and he's back in Springfield getting fat off your taxes speaks all the..."

He was forced to stop as Ness unexpectedly relieved himself on his master's pants. "Ness!" the Director of Corrections shouted at his pet, "Couldn't you wait until after the take!"

Ness gave him a guilty look. "Somebody get me a clean set of pants!" Mercer called to his support staff.

"Actually Mr. Mercer, I think what you did get during that take was stellar," Seymour told him with an edge of sycophancy, "We'll just edit the parts after that to..."

"Mr. Mercer, we've got a tip on them," Daniel ran up, "They're about fifteen miles to the west of us; if we hurry, we might be able to catch up with them."

"You here that boys, let's go get 'em!" Mercer yelled to all the cops and feds. As he rushed for his car, his wardrober came up with a fresh set of pants. "Here you go, Mr. Mercer," he said, undoing the Director's saturated pair—while he was walking, causing him to trip and fall. "Not now, Lloyd!" Mercer yelled, squirming out of his grasp in his underwear, "We've got to get on them pronto! Give me those; I'll change while I drive."

He jumped into his car and turned on his GPU. A blue blip on the top left side of the screen hinted the location of the Bluesmobile. No escape now, you guys," he said.

A few miles ahead of them, Elwood noted the sign reading WELCOME TO LUFKIN along the side of the road. "We're makin' good progress," he informed the others in Bluesmobile #1, "Time to check in on the others."

He activated the radio Jake had magically installed in the car. "Hey Mack, how's it goin'?" he asked the second car.

"Reasonable, Elwood," Mack told him over the airwaves, "Although I can't put on any speed here, or Cab'll have a stroke."

"Speeding is against the law, and you're doing it now; slow down," Cabel could be heard saying. "I'll tell you Elwood, he's driving me nuts with whatever's affecting him," Mack admitted.

"Yeah, uh, my advice would be just to live with it, "Elwood shrugged, "Where are ya?"

"A little south of St. Louis," Mack said, "We'll turn west the first chance we get."

"Right, best of luck," Elwood signed off.

"Where are we stopping?" Buster asked his ward.

"We've got a place set up for us at some college about fifteen miles from here," Elwood told him, "They've got room service, too."

"Oh come on!" Jake yelled miserably from the front passenger seat as a large section of the relic collapsed on him yet again. He'd been reassembling it much like a jigsaw puzzle ever since they'd hit the highways again, but had encountered numerous setbacks like this one. "I'll never date again," he vowed as he picked up the pieces and started over, "No telling when they'll end up in Hell."

"Do they even let you date in heaven?" Elwood inquired.

"You have access to women, but only your true love can last, and since I unfortunately didn't have one, I'm just a 'friend,' if you will," Jake told him.

"What is heaven like?" Buster asked him.

"Well, actually, it's whatever you want it to be," Jake told him.

"And what do you see it as?" Zee had to know.

"The world's largest blues hall," Jake said.

"Sorry I asked, "Zee shrugged. He leaned over the front seat and asked, "If I was adopted, did you ever find our parents yet—the real ones, I mean?"

"No, but I'm still looking, brother," Jake said, "I've got a couple of leads to our mother, and I've met a couple of guys who knew your father. He might not be dead yet, actually, I'm not sure. Gotta check in with Mayor Daley again the next time we play racquetball."

"Oh, you know him?"

"Zee, I know all sorts of famous people," Jake said, "In fact I have lunch with Lincoln twice a week."

"Have you guys been helping the Cubbies this year?" Zee held up the newspaper he'd been reading, showing the Cubs' World Series exploits, "Because you know, we see all the movies where you guys help out with..."

"Yeah, we helped a little during the regular season," Jake said, "Personally, I pitched in during that game in St. Louis in July; kept that grounder in the bottom of the twelfth from going foul. We're staying out of the Series, though; like they say, championships have to be won on their own. In the meantime, I play a little pickup with Luke Appling and Johnny Evers at Old Comiskey and..."

"Old Comiskey's in Heaven?" Zee was amazed.

"Well sure Zee; ballparks have souls too," Jake said.

"Comiskey's DEAD!?" Elwood was shocked.

"Where've you been?" Zee was surprised Elwood hadn't heard of Comiskey's destruction.

"So Mr. Blues, how do you manage to be down here with us when you're that busy up there in Heaven?" Katrina asked Jake.

"Well you see, cherub, the time-space relationships here on Earth don't work the same way in Heaven," Jake explained to her, "Up there we can manipulate the spectrum like..."

Just then Armstrong started barking out the bark window. "Uh, I don't think we want to see flashing lights, do we?" Zee asked, staring at the swarm of cop cars behind them.

"Hold on," Elwood went into emergency mode immediately. He put the pedal to the metal, and the Bluesmobile roared up the parkway. The cops had managed to get rather close without being detected, however, and remained on his tail.

In his car, Mount radioed in to the local authorities. "Hello, we're in high speed pursuit on the Lufkin Parkway," he announced to anyone who might happen to be listening, "Please give us backup and help us stop the Blues Brothers."

"Ten-four," came someone's voice, "Are you heading westward?"

"That's an affirmative," Mount told him.

"Roger, we're on it," the local cop said.

In Mercer's car, General Storrs activated his walkie-talkie. "I want tanks and helicopters west of Lufkin immediately," he ordered his men, ""This ends right here and...," he became aware that they were now swerving all over the parkway and slamming into the guard rails. "Mercer, what the hell are you doing!?" he demanded to his ally.

"General, everything's...cut it out, Ness!" Mercer shouted to his dog, which, attracted by his master's fire hydrant-emblazoned underwear, was sniffing him in the forbidden area. He tried to push the dog away, with little success.

Up the road, the local cops pulled out a spike strip onto the highway. "We're in position now," one of the cops radioed to Mount, 'Their tires'll deflate really fast."

"Here they come now," one of his colleagues pointed toward several glowing headlights coming toward them very fast. The cops took their positions at the side of the road, weapons cocked. The Bluesmobile ran over the spike strip—but didn't slow down at all. In fact, the spikes seemed to have no effect on the former police car's tires at all. "WHAT!?" one of the cops exclaimed, watching the Bluesmobile speed off even faster in the distance, "It always stops them!"

His assumed knowledge was proved partially true as many of the pursuing police cars ran over the strip and blew out their tires. Loud curses sprang up from the stranded cops. The luckier cars swerved over on the shoulder, totaling the local cops' cars.

Now with a little more of a cushion, Elwood swerved over onto the eastbound lanes as the parkway started coming to an end. He jumped a little shock as a huge tractor trailer carrying a house on its flatbed lumbered out into the intersection ahead of them, blocking it. "We'll never make that!" he exclaimed.

"Keep driving," a look of intense concentration appeared on Jake's face. The next thing Elwood knew, the Bluesmobile was shrinking to the size of a peanut. The shrunken car zipped under the blockage with plenty of room to spare.

"Hey, where they go?" Agent Orange asked, puzzled by the Bluesmobile's apparent disappearance.

"Watch it Mercer!" General Storrs shouted as the car approached the tractor trailer. Too preoccupied trying to get Ness off his underwear, Mercer didn't see the blockade until lit was too late. His car wedged underneath the flatbed, which tore the roof clean off his vehicle. "No, no, no!" he groaned, "Not my beautiful car!"

There was another loud crash. Daniel and Mount's cruiser had its sirens shaved off. "This was stupid, Mr. Mercer!" Daniel yelled at his boss. There was the grinding sound of brakes as the rest of the cop fleet ground to a halt, blocked.

"Hey you!" Evil Cabel shouted at the truck's cab, "Get this thing out of our way now, or we'll take you in!"

There was no response from the cab. Agent Orange shook his head in disgust. "Why is it so hard to catch these guys!?" he muttered to no one in particular.


	19. A Night in Hiding

**NINETEEN **

It was close to midnight when the Bluesmobile pulled onto the campus of Southern Baptist University. "Everyone keep your eyes out for a Brillstein Hall," Elwood said, scanning around the dark, willow-strewn green, "That's where we'll meet our contact."

"I think that might be it over there," Buster pointed to an ivy-covered library to their left. And sure enough, a silhouetted figure was standing on the steps waving at them. Elwood pulled over and rolled down the window. "You the guy waitin' for us?" he asked.

"Yeah, Elwood Blues, you probably don't remember me, I'm Tommy Ralston from the orphanage," the man told him. "I was one of the last to leave St. Helen's of the Blessed Shroud before they tore it down. Now I'm dean of admissions here. I'm thankful for you for saving that old place, though. Don't know where'd I be if…"

"Do you have a place for us or not?" Zee interrupted.

"It's Graham Hall, third building down the side road to your right," Ralston pointed it out, "Park in the grove behind the building, no one goes back there. I've got Room 324 on the top floor all laid out for you; I'll be up once you're in with essentials."

"Thanks," Elwood drove off toward the dorm in question. "Nice guy, but he talks way too much," he confided in the others.

"Well, let's just hope he doesn't have a leak in his system here that might spill on us," Zee said as they headed for the willow grove in question, "I have a good idea how the cops found us so quickly last time. And besides, I need a good night sleep."

"I take it you're not a person who likes excitement," Katrina spoke up for the first time since Lufkin.

"No, not at all, Miss," Zee told her as they piled out of the car. "I got sick on a roller coaster when I was six, and ever since I've sworn off thrills of any kind."

"Well don't you worry, brother, once this mission is over with, we'll have you ready for a lifetime of thrills," Elwood said, locking the Bluesmobile up.

"Please don't encourage that, Elwood," Zee told him.

They entered Graham Hall. The guard's face was buried in a newspaper, and he didn't look up when they walked in. "Room 324?" Elwood inquired.

"Down the hall to your left, top of the stairs, fourth room on the right," the guard pointed without looking at them. Elwood nodded and led the others in the directions they'd been told. "I wonder if the cops've figured out our route yet?" he wondered out loud.

"Not likely," Jake commented, "We got a good lead on them. The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s might, though, so I'll keep watch all through the night for you."

"Don't you have to sleep?" an amazed Katrina asked.

"Sweetheart, it's called eternal rest for a reason," Jake told her, "I'm technically always asleep and at peace. It's rather complicated to explain to people who're still alive."

They reached the room they'd been assigned. It was a standard double occupancy room with bunk beds, a TV, a shower, a desk, and a sink. A basket had been set up in the corner for Armstrong, who immediately walked over and laid down in it. "I got dibs on top bunk," Elwood said, taking off his tuxedo and laying it on the chair next to the desk.

"I hope they're up with food soon," Zee said, sitting down on the bottom one, "I haven't eaten since that gas station in Texarkana. In the meantime, time to catch the late news. Maybe we'll see where the cops are now."

"Do you really think they'll show that?" Buster derided him, but as it turned out, the first shot that popped up on the screen was of Mercer standing in front of his now roofless car. "…this was a ruthless, unorthodox attack on their part," he was telling the reporter, "If there is any doubt on the part of this country, and the voters of Illinois, that the Blues Brothers still pose a threat to the general public, this should have dispelled it. I want all of you to know that I am going to stay out on the road chasing them down until I catch them. I don't see George Haroldson doing anything to stop the menace they pose. I think there's no…"

"Thank you Mr. Mercer," the reporter cut him off, "Back to you, Bill."

"Thank you Todd," the anchor back at CNN told him, "As you at home can see, the escape of the Blues Brothers from jail has set off a political firestorm in Illinois. Governor Haroldson today released a statement calling Mercer's campaign to catch Elwood Blues and his associates a complete waste of taxpayer dollars. Haroldson went on to say, quote, 'If Burton Mercer wasn't so set on chasing windmills, he might notice there's lots of crime occurring right now in this state that is more dangerous than a washed-out con in an old battered car.' Mercer's camp has yet to file a rebuttal."

"Congratulations, Elwood," Jake patted him on the shoulder, "You've made this campaign exciting again. Now they'll go for all sorts of mud to toss at each other."

"In related news, businessman Tony Danson, whose son was last seen in the custody of the Blues Brothers, has issued a twenty-five thousand dollar reward for anyone who can provide solid information for his safe return," the anchor continued, "Danson, whom we're told is with Mercer on the trail of the Bluesmobile…"

There was a knock at the door. "Here's your food, guys," Ralston whispered in.

"Thanks a lot," Zee reached through the crack and took the tray off him, "No dessert?"

"I'll see what I can find," Ralston scurried off. Zee set the tray on the desk. "Come and get it," he announced out loud. Buster and Katrina eagerly helped themselves to sandwiches and soft drinks. Elwood, on the other hand, merely took a piece of cheese off another sandwich and folded it up before chewing on it. "Fetch," he called to Armstrong, tossing the rest of the sandwich in the dog's direction. "Don't you ever eat a lot of anything, Elwood?" an amazed Zee asked him.

"I'm not really much of a diner," Elwood admitted, "Now Jake, he was different. He'd eat anythin' around him, wouldn't ya, Jake?"

"You know it," Jake was glancing out the window. "No sign of any dark agents yet," he announced, "I think you all can go to bed a bit easier."

"Oh really?" the thought of hellish agents after him didn't seem to make Zee all that comfortable about sleeping.

Elwood finished eating his cheese and yawned. "Well, I'd better go hit the sack," he shrugged, "I'm feelin' bushed. Ya ready for bed, Buster?"

There was another knock on the door. "Rice pudding, anyone?" Ralston asked, pushing another tray through the crack. "Not now, Elwood," Buster said, eagerly grabbing one bowl.

"I'm going to watch the late news," Zee told them all, "I'll keep it low for you all so…"

"Turn out the lights," Jake said suddenly.

"Why, what…."

"Just do it, and pull down the blind," Jake told him, "We've got company here on campus. I'll take care of it."

He skittered through the wall and floated in the air outside. He'd thought he'd sensed the presence of mortals with ill intent approaching and there was no mistaking the revving of motorcycle engines below. "The Black Diamond Riders," he said softly, seeing the amoral bikers riding onto campus in the distance. Making himself almost transparent, he flew toward them. "…all the reports said they were headed this way," Mad Dog was telling his associates, "Spread out and find those clowns! I just know they're here. And remember, Topton's all…"

There was the beeping of a horn behind them. A very familiar Winnebago was coming up the access road behind them. Tucker McElroy stuck his head out the driver's side window. "Hey, Evel Knievel, get your bikes out of my way!" he yelled at Mad Dog harshly, "I'm looking for someone here!"

"Nobody makes us get out…!" Mad Dog started to say, but then he recognized the country & western man. "Say, you're that bum that sang like a woman at that restaurant," he said, "What brings you down here?"

Tucker grunted uncomfortably at the memory of what Jake had just done to him. Bob leaned out of the passenger window. "We're looking for some goddarn jerks," he explained, "They owe me three hundred dollars for beer. You ain't seen 'em, have you?"

"Wait, you mean the Blues Brothers?" a biker with a head scarf piped up, "We're looking for them too."

"You don't say," Bob exclaimed, "Which of you's in charge here?"

"I am," Mad Dog walked up to the Winnebago, "Mad Dog McMurdo."

"Well Mr. Mad Dog, what do you say we make a little gentlemen's agreement here?" Bob proposed, "You join up with us," he gestured to the rest of the Good Old Boys in the Winnebago, who raised their rifles and ax handles, "And we'll catch them together and split the difference, namely we each kill the ones we want dead the most. What do you say?"

"We work alone, bud," Mad Dog growled.

"But we both hate these guys with a passion," Tucker argued, "And Bob and me would be willing to compensate you with anything you want for helping us get them: money, jewels, women…"

"Free women?" a mustached biker was intrigued by the offer, "I think we've got a winner here, Mad Dog."

"Group huddle," Mad Dog announced to his cronies. They came close and talked it over for a minute, "Sure, why the hell not?" the biker said, shaking Bob's hand, "We've got an inkling that they're right here in this university."

"All right, you guys take the left end of the property," Tucker told the bikers, "We'll take the right. Yell if you see them."

There was the roar of engines as the motorcycles and Winnebago rolled off. "That's bad," Jake admitted out loud. Then he saw an infamous red car coming up the road. "And that's worse."

He zoomed high in the air as the Nazi's car slunk into sight. About ten of them climbed out of it—as did Camille. "I believe you owe me heavily for my information," she informed the Head Nazi.

"If you're looking for me to reward you, forget it toots," the Head Nazi told her roughly, "Woman's only purpose in this world is to bear warriors, and that's all you will do when the New Order comes to…"

Camille grabbed him by the throat. "I don't like your tone," she told him, "Frankly, I don't trust you or your fools here, so I've brought my pets along to find Jake and his friends."

She walked to the trunk and opened it. Three giant hellhounds sprung out, growling ominously. "Larry, Moe, Fido, Jake's here," she told them, "Find him for me, and I'll let you quarter him personally."

The hellhounds tore across the green, barking loudly. "As you can see, unlike you, I come prepared," Camille told her associates, who looked like they'd had no idea the dogs had been in the trunk, "Let me know if you see anything."

Jake watched as his foes split up. "OK, gotta think heavy here, Blues," he said to himself, "Now how do I get rid of all these goons in one blow?" He thought this over for a minute, then snapped his fingers and said, "Yeah, that'll do it, but I'll have to get them all in the same place for it to work." And with that he split himself into five different versions of himself.

Down in the cafeteria, the bikers shoved the overnight staff aside as they started tearing up the building. Mad Dog grabbed a startled head cook by the collar. "Where are the Blues brothers?" he demanded, "We know they're here!"

"I, I have no idea what you're talking about!" the cook stammered.

"Don't lie to me!" the head biker snarled, "I know what…!"

"Hey Mad Dog, there's somebody in the closet over here," one of his brother bikers ran up.

Mad Dog shoved the cook to the ground and ran over to his compadres, who had their weapons at the ready, outside the closet, from which a light could be seen under the door. "On the count of three," Mad Dog told them, raising a foot high, "THREE!"

He kicked the door in…and found himself staring at the most hideous face imaginable. With roaring red eyes, a bleached faced, and horrible burn damage, it roared in his face. The unshakable Black Diamond Riders screamed in terror and ran as fast as they could out onto the green. Inside the closet, the Jake clone restored himself to normal. "That was easy," he told himself, "Now let's hope the rest of me did his job."

On the green, the Riders were met by an equally pale group of Good Old Boys. "Did you see it too!" a gasping Tucker managed to say between breaths, "It was in the library bathroom too! This place is haunted!"

"Oh don't be silly, Tuck," Bob looked less convinced, "I good well have just been…"

One of the country singers started shrieking in terror and pointing toward the north end of the campus. "For Lord's sake, Harlan, give it a…" Tucker started to reprimand his band mate, but could only stare in shock at the sight of the hellhounds approaching, the Nazis—now in their skeletal form in the moonlight--in their jaws, and Camille running after them. "Put them down, boys!" she was shouting at them.

"You're faithful friends here sure are proving their mettle," the Gruppenfuehrer grumbled, trying to pull himself out of Fido's jaws.

"It's not my fault, you imbecile!" Camille rebuked him, "Something just tells me Jake's fiddling with their…!"

"Do you hear something?" Bob held up his hand. The wind was now whipping heavily around them. Everyone looked up just in time to see a tornado coming toward them, even though the sky was clear. "Every man for himself!" Mad Dog yelled. Everyone started running, but the tornado picked them all up, including the hellhounds. Jake slipped out of the vortex and watched his enemies spin into the woods and out of sight. "That should handle them for now," he said, putting his hands to his head to stop the spinning sensation he had from rotating around so rapidly. "I'd better have someone upstairs keep a tighter watch so I don't get surprised like this anymore."

He fused his separate selves back into one and floated back into the dorm room. "Problem solved," he announced to his Brothers.

"Mmm," Zee wasn't quite as interested as he was in watching the ESPN crawl on TV, "Well, it looks like the Cubs might not need you guys after all. They rallied in the eighth to tie the series at 2. Next time, let's turn in early so I can catch the game in full?"

"We'll see what we can do, brother," Jake rubbed him on the head affectionately. He created a cloud from his fingertips and flopped down on it as it floated up to the ceiling. It stopped when it was parallel to Elwood's bunk. His brother had Buster and Katrina sound asleep under his arms. "So they won't be a problem no more, huh Jake?" he asked him.

"Not for tonight anyway," Jake kicked off his shoes, "Can I have the girl?"

"Sure," without disturbing her, Elwood picked Katrina up and laid her on the cloud next to Jake. Jake cradled her close and gave her a warm smile. "I'll tell you something Elwood," he said, "Looking back now, the one thing I wish I could have had was a child of my own to love."

"Well, doncha love her like ya are?" Elwood looked puzzled.

"Oh sure, when you're in my state you love everyone on the planet, but I just wish I'd been able to have that son or daughter to give truly fatherly love to."

"Well, look at the bright side, Jake, maybe some of the dames you took for…" Elwood stopped himself when he remembered what Curtis had told them the other day about illegitimacy in heaven, "Oh, yeah, forgot, no under the table kids."

"I checked anyway," Jake informed him, "None of them actually gave birth, although two did miscarry. When you have eternity to mull over your mistakes, you realize where you've failed in life." He sighed deeply. "Boy what I wouldn't give to be alive again and give life another chance. I could make up for everything that went wrong before."

"You did good enough for me, Jake," Elwood gave him a rare smile, "And we saved the orphanage together. I think that should count for ya."

"True, those were basically what got me into heaven instead of Purgatory," Jake conceded, still, I can't help wondering…"

Katrina moaned in her sleep and rolled over. Jake covered her with some cloud and hugged her closer. "Well, good night Elwood," he said, tipping his hat too him, "Don't flush the toilet too loud if you have to go in the middle of the night."

"I won't," Elwood looked confused as to why this should be an issue at all, but he shrugged and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Night Zee," Jake called down to his real brother, who was already sound asleep in front of the TV. Jake snapped his fingers, and it went dark, eliciting a whimper from the basket in the corner. "Sorry Armstrong," Jake apologized to the dog and snapped the TV back on. He glanced down at Katrina asleep in his arms. Her hadn't lied one bit to Elwood. He deeply wished she could be his own daughter…


	20. Duels in the Desert

**TWENTY **

"Unit two five nine, suspects headed west toward Nevada state line, please exercise caution, they are considered highly dangerous," came the static-filled voice over the police scanner Tyrone Terrell had rigged to his dashboard. The drug lord and his entourage had been secretly following the police caravan all the way from Illinois, hoping to extract their revenge on the Brothers. And now, from what the information he was getting, they were quite close to their intended targets.

"At last," he said, rubbing his hands in delight, "We're going to nail those cretins for taking my capital. Vinnie, tell them…Vinnie, what the hell are you doing?"

His brother looked up from the tray of cocaine he'd been snorting, his face bleached white from it. "Just testing the next shipment, Ty," he told him in a high voice, "WHOOOOO BOY, this is kickin' stuff! We can make about fifty grand with this!"

Terrell grabbed the tray off his hands and tossed it on the floor. "You can test it later!" he snapped, "Right now we need to lock and load! We'll catch them in about five minutes."

He tossed a high-powered rifle at him and the two hit men riding in his personal limo. "Everybody load up!" he barked through his radio at the convoy of eight other cars trailing behind him in the dim Arizona dusk. When they hit their prey, they'd die very quickly and painfully.

"Yeah Foley, snuck right up on us," Jake said into his holy cell phone to someone Upstairs, "I don't know, are our reconnaissance units failing with the breach? Yeah, if you keep a watch for us, that would be good. Call me every two hours on their position except for an emergency. Yeah, I know."

"Foley?" Zee inquired as he hung up.

"Close friend of mine," Jake told him, "We have a lot in common, really. He always dreamed of being a high-flight comedian, but spent most of his life living in a van down by the lower Hudson. He sort of idolizes me in fact; follows me everywhere I go up there."

"And ya couldn't even keep a date more than one night in this world; go figure," Elwood shrugged. He flicked the main loudspeaker switch; they'd found an old rusted loudspeaker in a junkyard earlier in the day when they'd been briefly lost, and had decided to put it to use as they had for the one they'd used before the Palace Hotel Ballroom gig. ""Appearing tomorrow night in Los Angeles," he announced out loud to the practically deserted highway, "live from Universal Studios, the fabulous Blues Brothers show band and review, one night only for your entertainment pleasure."

"Well, we can certainly drum up a lot of customers out here," Zee said sarcastically, scanning both sides of the road.

"The more the better," Elwood said, "And if we can…"

"DOWN!" Jake abruptly pushed him to the floor just as a bullet shattered the Bluesmobile's rear window. More gunfire clanked off the loudspeaker. "Boy those cops caught up fast!" Buster lamented, sliding to the floor.

"It's not the cops, kid, it's the guys that enslaved you and your friend," Jake recognized the drug dealers even though it was almost dark outside.

"I'm on it," Elwood swerved off the road and rattled over the sand dunes at close to eighty miles an hour. The drug dealers followed, still firing away with everything they had. Bullet holes riddled the Bluesmobile all over. "The only way we're gonna shake 'em is to outrun 'em," he told a horrified Zee, "So hang on tight."

Zee looked rather nauseated. "Here you go," Jake said, handing him a vomit bag, which Zee promptly began using. "But don't you worry, brother," the angel continued, "I'll whip you into shape yet.

Elwood abruptly slammed on the brakes. They'd just arrived at the cusp of the Grand Canyon. This development did little to quell Zee's nerves. "Great, now you've got us trapped!" he berated Elwood, "How're you going to get us out of this one, may I ask?"

"The same way those two chicks did it in that movie," Elwood reversed the Bluesmobile and backed away roughly a half mile from the edge. The drug dealers' cars were now almost on top of them.

"Uh, Elwood, I should point out that Thelma and Louise didn't survive the jump into the canyon," Zee looked white as chalk.

"I believe," Elwood winked at Jake and accelerated toward the canyon. With the odometer reading over a hundred and forty miles an hour, the Bluesmobile hit the edge and shot into the air over the Grand Canyon. For what seemed the longest time, they hung in the air thousands of feet above the Colorado River and certain doom. Finally, they crashed down on the other edge of the canyon, the rear wheels slipping on the edge of the cliff. Elwood gave it all the gas it could take, forcing the Bluesmobile up and over to safety. "That was amazing!" Katrina exclaimed, looking back at the canyon, "Can we do that again?"

"Maybe we will," Elwood said, eliciting another nauseated groan from Zee.

On the far side of the canyon, the drug dealers' cars ground to a halt at the edge. "Damn!" Terrell shouted, smacking the roof of his car in disgust, "We had them just like that, and they got away!"

"Well I'm sure there's a bridge around here somewhere," his driver remarked.

"Then find it now you moron!" Terrell whacked him in the back of the head, "I want their heads!"

Back in the Bluesmobile, Elwood squinted into the distance. "Ain't that Vegas?" he asked, noticing a hard glow in the sky to the northwest.

"Should be," Jake told him, "Maybe if we're lucky enough, we'll be able to stop and gas up somewhere on…uh oh."

They'd crested a small hill to find themselves staring straight at Mercer's entire force. A sea of headlights almost six rows thick glared right at them—not to mention the countless helicopter lights beaming down from overhead. "OK Elwood," came Mercer's voice over a loudspeaker, "Save yourself the agony and give yourself up now."

Elwood swerved wildly to the left. The cops and agents quickly sped after him. "Attention all personnel," General Storrs ordered his troops from the back of Mercer's now roofless car, "Surround Las Vegas and create a perimeter. Do not let the Bluesmobile leave the vicinity."

"How many are there, Jake?" Elwood had to know as he roared toward the inviting lights of Vegas.

"Oh about three, four thousand," Jake estimated, "Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Zee stared his natural brother in the eye, "Well I'm not going to jail because he's reckless!" he pointed at Elwood.

"They ain't gonna catch us," Elwood said, "We're on a mission from God."

He abruptly swerved to the right as more FBI and army cars came at him from the left. By now they'd left the desert and were into the suburban landscape outside Las Vegas. With a paved road once again under its wheels, the Bluesmobile gained speed. It seemed, however, that new police cars popped up at every intersection to join the chase. Soon their pursuers stretched all the way back to the horizon. They remained firmly in the overhead glares of the helicopters' searchlights as the suburbs gave way to Las Vegas proper.

"The Golden Nugget," Jake pointed to the casino at the corner of downtown.

"Yeah," Elwood nodded. Then he smashed abruptly through the front of the building, totaling slot machines and sending casino patrons scrambling. Several cop cars followed them through, wrecking more of the lobby. "Boy Vegas's sure changed," Elwood commented as he tore down Las Vegas Boulevard at over a hundred miles an hour, "When'd they add that big neon thing over downtown?"

"Oh, a couple of years ago," Zee was now lying on the back seat floor with his eyes closed. Armstrong snorted almost pathetically at him and leapt over the front seat to join his master. "Yeah, take a good look, Armstrong, you're gonna like this," Elwood scratched his ears. He swerved wildly in between traffic, narrowing missing a collision with a cement truck as he blew through a red light near the top of the Strip. The police were showing similar disregard for public safety; two cruisers right behind the Bluesmobile ran civilian cars right off the road and into several seedy motels.

"The Stratosphere," Buster pointed to the long thin spire marking the first mega resort on the Strip, "They always say that's a good one."

"One way to find out," Elwood hopped the curb and slammed through the casino, leaving a pair of large holes in the walls. "The Sahara," he said out loud, crossing the median and attacking the desert-themed hotel next, "That coaster's new."

"Speed the Ride, yeah, I've heard," Zee said meekly from the floor.

"This was the hotel Jake and me always wanted to play in when we formed the Blues Brothers," Elwood said as he destroyed the Sahara lobby, "We always dreamed of comin' to Vegas once we hit it big. Either this or the Sands."

"I preferred the Sands," Jake commented, feeding Armstrong another heavenly dog biscuit. The Bluesmobile knocked over a VIP luggage rack as it exited the hotel. The front two police cars after them crashed into palm trees behind them.

"Circus Circus," Katrina pointed to the next one on the route.

"Yeah," Elwood nodded, obliterating Circus Circus's outside casino. He then swerved across the street again and shattered the front of the Riviera.

"Well, if you were less interested in destroying all these symbols of corporate greed, you might be able to actually put some distance between them and us," Zee pointed out the back at the still expanding law enforcement vehicles behind them.

"No prob," Elwood zoomed toward the Stardust sign and knocked out a support column. The neon megalith swayed and collapsed onto the street, trapping several FBI cars underneath. The rest of the authorities swerved around onto the northbound lanes. Inside his cruiser, Daniel looked over at Mount. "Doesn't this seem a bit familiar?" he had to ask.

"Just like the mall twenty years ago," Mount knew, "Only now they've got more to work with."

"Treasure Island?" Elwood frowned in the meantime, staring at the unfamiliar hotel in front of them, "Where'd the Dunes go?"

"They tore the Dunes down years ago, Elwood, don't you hear anything in prison?" Zee seemed rather surprised.

"Oh well," Elwood shrugged and hopped onto the sidewalk. He blew the horn to get people walking along the old-fashioned wooden walkway to clear a path, which they did by diving into the lagoon. The Bluesmobile thundered up the stairs at the end of the walkway and leapt off the overpass, crashing down hard on the street. Three army cars that had followed them up the walkway tried the same maneuver and crashed headfirst onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

"The Venetian," Jake pointed to the ultramodern facility across the street.

"Impressive," Elwood commented. He broke through the Venetian's front doors and led the authorities on a merry chase through the resort's shopping center, taking the time to smash up various storefronts as he went. Breaking out the back wall, he turned back toward the strip, jumping over the canal in the process. "Harrah's," he commented just before destroying the front entrance, "The Mirage?" That's a new one too."

More police cars were coming at them. With nowhere else to go, Elwood jumped the Mirage's fence and rumbled up the side of the volcano. "It blows in five seconds, Elwood," Jake pointed out. He needn't have worried; Elwood roared off the top of the volcano just as it exploded for the hour, sending one pursuing cop car crashing into the lagoon below as it swerved to avoid the flames, and cutting off all the others behind them. "Good, at least they still got the Flamingo," Elwood commented as he smashed through its casino, adding, "Oh crap," just as he totaled several crap tables. "Caesar's Palace," he said next, causing two FBI cars to collide as he zoomed back to the southbound lanes, "Say Jake, whatdya say we do what Evil Knievel couldn't?"

"If you feel like it," Jake was clearly enjoying the motor madness. Elwood accelerated toward Caesar's cypress groves and roared up over the hotel's infamous fountains. "That felt good, huh Armstrong?" he asked the dog. Armstrong barked in agreement. The dog pushed past Jake to the passenger window and stuck its tongue out at the cop cars who failed to successfully duplicate the jump behind them.

"Do it again!" Katrina was now very much in the jumping mood.

"Bellagio dead ahead, go for broke," Jake pointed to the posh resort ahead. Elwood nodded and floored it. The Bluesmobile zoomed up an earthen bank and rocketed over Bellagio's lagoon just as its water show was in progress below. It crashed down hard on the sidewalk hard enough to shatter the suspension on a normal car. Behind them, no fewer than seven law enforcement cars tried yet again to follow their quarry and ended up in the middle of the lagoon, sopping wet. As if that wasn't bad enough for the authorities, the Bluesmobile, after landing, almost hit a cop car, which swerved out of the way and was hit by two more behind it. This set off a massive pileup of cop cars which, when it finally ended after taking the lives of almost thirty cars, blocked all southbound traffic. Nonplussed, the surviving authorities swerved into the northbound lanes, sending traffic shooting down side streets.

"Paris?" Elwood was surprised at the next hotel on the block, "Well, it is a small world after all." He proceeded to do the same thing to Paris as he'd done to the Venetian, and when he was finished no less than a dozen shops inside the French building were wrecked. "Wait, this ain't the Aladdin," he commented upon seeing the next one, "What happened to the old one?"

"Go through it anyway," Buster encouraged him. Elwood did just that. Nice architecture though," he said, awed at the Middle East theming, "They shoulda done this in the old days."

He zoomed through the indoor market, indescrimately destroying storefronts. To be fair, the police and FBI did more or less the same thing in pursuit, though. About midway through, two of the FBI cars hit debris from a shattered column and tipped over, sliding down the market at over eighty miles an hour. A fountain interrupted the path of one rudely, but the other kept sliding all the way into the casino, where it was knocking aside be the trailing cars. The Bluesmobile, in the meantime, plowed out the Aladdin's back wall and back across the street just in time to wreck the Monte Carlo's casino. "Almost home free," Jake said, noticing the end of the Strip not too far off.

"Oh really?" Zee spoke up again, "Don't you think they'd cover all the exits from this town to make sure we didn't get out that easy?"

Indeed at that moment, General Storrs was talking on his radio to his command about that very possibility. "They're almost in your clutches," he informed them, "At my command, close in on them."

"New York New York," Mercer commented from the front seat as the Bluesmobile zoomed across the mock Brooklyn Bridge and into the casino, "I always wanted to stay at this one, how about you, Ness?"

His dog was less interested in the casino as it was in chewing on Mercer's ashtray. "You know, in a way, I'm glad they're doing this," Mercer continued to his colleagues while deliberately demolishing a mock newsstand, "Now we've got them on at least a hundred counts of endangering the public and attempted vehicular manslaughter."

"The trouble is catching these clowns," Agent Orange pointed out as they exited New York New York through the large hole the Bluesmobile had left in the wall, "It shouldn't really be as difficult as it is."

"On the bright side though, you've just got to love the fresh desert air," Mercer said, breathing in deeply. He'd been slowing gaining on the Bluesmobile, and was now a mere twenty feet behind it as the chase now entered the MGM Grand. "No escaping now, Elwood," he said, putting the hammer all the way down. His mood changed significantly, however, once the Bluesmobile broke into the lion's exhibit. For with the roof of his car now gone, two of the lions jumped right into the car, growling at having their space disturbed. "Nice kitties," Mercer said weakly, trying to force a smile, "Please don't hurt Uncle Burt."

The nearest lion roaring menacingly. Faced with imminent death, Mercer did the bravest thing he could think of—he dove out of his car. With no one driving it, the car smashed out a back window and toppled twenty feet into a ditch behind the hotel. Agent Orange and General Storrs, who foolishly had not been wearing their seatbelts, were sent flying through the air into a tree. "That was stupid!" the FBI man shouted, picking himself up.

"Hey!" General Storrs ran back toward the car. One of the lions was chewing his radio. It dropped it and took off running as he approached. "Oh perfect!" the general groaned, holding up its shattered remains, "Now there's no way I can coordinate the troops!"

"How about using a payphone?" Agent Orange suggested.

In the meantime, Elwood had just finished destroying the Tropicana's Vegas museum. "Informative stuff," he mused as he crossed the street one last time, the Excalibur in his sights, "Too bad we could only take the express tour."

Zee had started to regain himself a bit now that the chase was starting to wind down a bit. "This is my favorite, Excalibur," he said, wincing as they smashed into the back of the hotel, interrupting the Tournament of Kings show and sending the show's horses scattering in panic, "If there's one I wanted to stay at, this was the one."

There was another crash behind them as three military cars wiped out trying to follow them across to the Luxor. "This musta cost a lot," Elwood commented, slamming into the big pyramid and completely obliterating priceless Egyptian artifacts.

"More than the gross national product of Eritrea, I can tell you that," Jake said, "I'll going to make sure they don't follow us after this. You just keep driving."

"Gotcha," Elwood nodded. He glanced off a large camel statue, which toppled over onto the windshield of Suntzman's car. "Marvin, get this damn thing off!" the Joliet warden ordered his adjutant, "I can't see a damn thing!"

"I'm working on it; Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Danson, give me a hand with this!" Marvin appealed to their passengers. Keith and Buster's fathers leaned over and strained with Marvin, finally managing to push the camel off as they exited the Luxor. This became, however, a serious hazard for the trailing cop cars, which crashed again when trying to avoid it. Although less consuming than the previous crash, this one blocked access out of the Luxor for the rest of the force. Suntzman, meanwhile now had a clearer view with his windshield completely gone now…and was aghast at what he saw ahead of them. "It can't be!" he exclaimed, pointing at Jake as he climbed out of the Bluesmobile's right window and raised both hands in the air, "Jake!"

"It can't be Jake sir," Marvin told him, "Jake's long dead. You and I both know that."

"Still," Suntzman looked rather shaken, "we've got to catch them just to make sure. If this turns out…"

"Watch out for that…!" Tony Danson's shout came just a second too late before Suntzman crashed into a palm inside Mandalay Bay, totaling the front half of his car. "…tree," the rich man finished after the fact.

Ahead, Elwood noticed something out of the ordinary happening as he hydroplaned across Mandalay's pool. "It's snowing," he said. There was no mistaking the white flakes hitting the windshield.

"Yeah," Jake climbed back inside, "And a lot of that can blind an opponent. Keep heading west; they'll lose us very quickly."

And sure enough, by the time Elwood had left Mandalay and was heading back into the desert toward the distant Sierra Nevada, the desert was being pelted by a major snowstorm. The flakes were flying so fast that General Storr's perimeter units were caught in a total whiteout. "Sir, we'll have to abort mission," one of his commanders said into his radio, "There's just no way we can see out here. Sir? Sir? Are you there sir?"

All up and down the Strip, law enforcement authorities slowly climbed out of their wrecked cars. One sentenced echoed all throughout Las Vegas: "THEY BROKE MY WATCH!" At the end of Mandalay, Daniel screeched his cruiser to a stop as the storm reached its zenith. "Keep going you fool!" evil Cabel berated him from the back seat.

"I can't in this mess; do you want us to get killed?" Daniel shouted back. He turned to Mount again. "I'll tell you Charlie, this is really getting out of hand now," he had to say.

"Indeed," Mount nodded, "It's almost like someone's helping them along."


	21. LA Hideaway

**TWENTY-ONE **

"Brothers and sisters," Reverend James announced to his ravenous congregation, "I am here to announce to you that the day of the Lord cometh soon. We must repent all our sins now to avoid eternal damnation. Do you see the light?"

The congregation responded enthusiastically. "I said do you see the light?" the reverend asked more emphatically. He waived to his organist, who broke into a rousing hymn that got people out of their seats and dancing in the aisles. Next to the pulpit, Jennifer turned to Ray, who was happily clapping along with the song. "Keith and I come here every Sunday to see the reverend at his work," she told him, "Once he heard Jake and Elwood got inspired for their push for the orphanage twenty years ago here, he had to make this a weekly trip."

'Well he sure picked the right place," Ray said, swaying to the music, "This is best church service I've seen in a long time."

Suddenly, without warning, the church's doors slammed opened. Everyone came to an abrupt halt as Pastor Bedford stormed in, followed by dozens of Caucasian Provinces members brandishing demonic weaponry they'd been given by the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s. "All you inferiors clear out of here!" the so-called holy man demanded to the congregation, "This service is over!"

"You will not interrupt my service!" Reverend James shouted down from the altar, "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

"I am God's avenging angel!" Pastor Bedford told him darkly, "And you have committed blasphemy in his eye, savage! You are supporting the dark forces, and will be smitten for it!"

"You will leave now!" Reverend James pointed toward the door. A horrific demonic glow filled Bedford's eyes. Before anyone could react, deadly blasts of energy shot out of them, sending the choir and organist scrambling for cover. The white supremacists took this cue to shoot up the fleeing congregation with their inferno rods and plague grenades; Lieutenant Armbrister in particular seemed to take sadistic pleasure in setting on fire the clothes of people he no doubt felt were inferior to himself. Bedford in the meantime fired satanic blasts of energy all over the church, destroying icons and sepulchers. He blasted Reverend James as he was fumbling for a cross and walked slowly up to him. "And as for you, savage, you're going to face your judgment day," he said darkly.

"Uh oh," Jennifer commented to Ray from under the overturned pew they'd taken cover under, "I think we're in big trouble."

* * *

In the Bluesmobile as it cruised across the Ventura Freeway, Jake bolted upright in his seat. "Oh no," he breathed.

"Oh no what?" Elwood asked. Jake didn't respond. He grabbed the radio to Chicago. "Come in Reverend James," he called into it, "Reverend James, if you're there, talk to me."

There was nothing but static from Chicago. "Oh damn, oh damn!" Jake slammed the radio the floor and thumped his head off the dashboard in frustration. "What?" a concerned Katrina asked him.

"We just lost Chicago, sweetheart," Jake said, "The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s toasted our last outpost."

He dialed Upstairs on his cell. "Foley, they've got Chicago," he said glumly to his aide, "Go down and see if you can find any survivors in Triple Rock. Right, we meet after that."

"So what do you mean we've lost Chicago?" Zee asked him as he hung up.

"Triple Rock was the only truly righteous church left in the city," Jake said, "Sorry to say that everywhere else has become hypocritical and overly dogmatic, and thus have lost their true spirituality. Now, to fulfill this mission, we're going to have to go through a city that's almost certain to be turned into Hell on Earth by the time we get back there with the Relic."

"And they say New York's bad," Elwood commented.

There was a beeping alongside them. The band had rejoined them. Elwood beeped back in compliance. Matt, who was driving, rolled down the window. "How's it been, Elwood?" he called out at him.

"Never better," Elwood called back, "How 'bout you?"

Another horn blast indicated the arrival of the second Bluesmobile. Elwood waved over to the rest of their group. "Here we go, Woodman Boulevard," he said, pulling off the exit ramp, "And there's our contact."

A brown 1979 Pontiac Bonneville had slowed to a crawl in front of the Bluesmobile; the same one they'd been told to look out for when they'd arrived in Los Angeles. All three cars—soon joined by Latifah's car coming from the opposing freeway ramp—fell in behind it as it drove at about ten miles an hour around the streets, finally pulling into a long driveway on Mammoth Avenue. This extended well behind the small apartment building that was to be their shelter during their time in L.A., and the fences surrounding the property were high enough to block prying eyes. All five cars pulled into a heavily obscured garage behind the apartment. "Chuck Betz, right?" Elwood asked as they all climbed out."

"Yep," the balding man told him, "I've got ten rooms open here for you. No one else in the building but me, so you can't get ratted out as long as you don't go out in public too much. After last night, I'd say you guys could use it. Say, are you Clarence Craycroft?"

"That's me," the blues legend said, leaning against the side of the garage.

"Curtis mentioned you a lot," Betz told him, "He seemed really sorry that he couldn't have been better to you. He sort of felt sorry about you, seeing what happened to your son and all that."

A strange look crossed Clarence's face, almost a cross between regret and shock. "Well, let's not just stand around here and wait to be caught, how about we go up and have breakfast," the old man said, leading the way up to Betz's main apartment.

"So how'd your trip over go?" Elwood asked Mack as they entered the rather spacious main apartment.

"Less eventful than yours, I've heard," Mack said, "Cab was all over me for every little infraction of the law I made, but the cops were only on us for the first half of the trip or so, until they realized they wanted you more than us."

"Sounds nice," Elwood nodded, "So, Latifah, did ya book us for Universal?" he asked his attorney."

"Just cinched it around sunrise," she told him, "It turns out they're going to launch a new ride based on Steven Spielberg's new knight movie, and they were looking for a band to play to open it."

"Apparently news travels fast," Zee had turned on the TV and found a blown-up photo of the Bluesmobile facing back at him. "And this breaking news coming in to us," the Headline News anchor was saying, "We've just received word that the Blues Brothers, fresh off their reckless spree last night in Las Vegas, will be performing for one night only at Universal Studios Hollywood tomorrow evening. Officials at the park say they received on offer they could refuse from the band's management. Authorities haven't commented on whether they'll let the Blues Brothers perform without arresting them first."

He laid down his copy and looked directly into the camera. "As you know, the reemergence of the Blues Brothers has sparked a great divide not just in Illinois but also all over the nation," he said, "Some people are questioning why they continue to do what they're doing, performing bleus music in this era of techno and pop and rap. Plus the memories of all the vehicular carnage they've caused throughout their various incarnations. Our sister station CNN will present a special five part series on the history of the Blues Brothers starting tonight at eight featuring a town hall discussion between their supporters and detractors. We hope you'll tune in to watch."

"At least we'll be able to see tonight's," Elwood shrugged.

"Which begs the question; if they know we're coming, how do we get into Universal without being seen?" Donald posed, "They'll have guards and local cops at every single entrance and exit, and don't think the national people'll take too long to catch up."

"I can help there," Betz interceded, "It so happens I'm an accountant at Universal, and they've told me the special perks of the park. I know several back entrances through City Walk you can come in through and connect to the park with some underground tunnels. Universal's right over the hill to the south of here off the Hollywood."

"Sam and Dave are already there," Keith said, "They called to tell me they're setting things up for you guys. They told me they weren't followed."

"Well then, I think we might as well take this time to break in our newer members," Clarence pointed to the three members of Zee's old group.

"That would help," Jordan nodded, "I still haven't got a damn clue what's going on here."

The band filed down to get their equipment. Clarence abruptly slumped down on the sofa. Jake put a hand to his head. "You're amazed Curtis cared, aren't you?" he asked.

"I didn't know he had it in him," Clarence looked almost ashamed, "I thought he only cared for himself."

"Curtis made mistakes over the years, but by the time he'd raised us, he'd realized they were mistakes," Jake said, "He heard how far you'd fallen, and he'd felt guilty about walking out on you later in life. I know because he told me to my face."

"I was always close to Curtis," Betz said, "He always spoke highly of you as long as I knew him. He told all of us orphans you were the best blues musician out there, and he knew acres of them."

"Too bad the world had to let the blues go by," Clarence said, "We were so big—we were America's greatest export—and now the music's all but dead."

"That's why we're here," Jake said, "To make the world remember what they forgot. To spread the soul to places where it's been killed off."

There was the thumping of footprints up the stairs as the band came back. Clarence rose up. "Well, might as well got you guys back in shape," he said as they came in, "We'll start with you two on the saxophones, figure out who takes the lead."


	22. The Universal Studios Gig

**TWENTY-TWO **

On top of the Sears Tower, the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s stood in two long parallel rows as unnatural red storm clouds thundered overhead. The door to the roof slammed open as Alderman Alderman dragged over a thoroughly broken Reverend James. "He refused to submit to your cause," the alderman told Zildrohar, "I leave him at your mercy."

"Please do," the head Satan worshipper said. He snake buzzed loudly at the preacher. "Not yet, Ophiuchus," he told it, "I'd like to give him one last chance."

"How much longer do you think you can keep deceiving them on your true purpose?" Reverend James demanded, "When they find out you're using them to…"

"By then they'll be so grateful for having given them unrestrained power that they won't mind," Zildrohar interrupted, "The end of this world is coming, and if I were you, preacher, I'd think of where I'm going to stand in the New Order. Abandon your unresponsive God and swear loyalty to me, and you might survive."

Reverend James spit at him. "I will not abandon Him," he swore strongly, "You underestimate the Blues Brothers. They will not stop until they undo all your tricks."

"I think not," Zildrohar said dryly, "Because our powers grow stronger ever moment. Like so, for example."

He withdrew a black spell book from the folds of his robe. Placing it on a stand, he led his followers into a dark chant, at the end of which he struck the roof with his staff. With loud thunderclaps, a crack opened up in it, with hellish fire spewing up. Then a low rumble preceded the spontaneous eruption of innumerable demons of all shapes and sizes from the depths of Hell. "Find the Blues Brothers!" Zildrohar ordered them as they flew off in all directions, "And when you do, destroy them!"

* * *

"What the hell is all this?" Mercer blew his horn. The entrance to Universal Studios Hollywood was jammed with all sorts of people heading into the park, even though the sun was well on the way down. "Hey, clear a path!" the Department of Corrections chairman demanded, waving the crowds out of his way, but getting mostly obscene gestures in response. "Unbelievable," he mused to his associates, "You'd think they actually liked these clowns."

"Maybe they do," General Storrs couldn't help noticing several park patrons wearing T-shirts saying things such as ELWODD BLUES IS MY BROTHER. In the cruiser behind the wreck that was now Mercer's car, Mount shook his head at the sight of his enemies having pirated merchandise. "Unbelievable, just unbelievable," he muttered, "To think people would actually think of these goons as heroes."

"And if that's bad enough, there's no damn parking space," Daniel was scanning the lot ahead of him. Nothing was even close to being open.

"Too bad this isn't a movie," Lieutenant Eliozar commented from the back seat, "Whenever anyone's driving in the movies, there's always a convenient parking space directly outside the place they want to go."

There was a low growling next to her. The evil Cabel was rolling his head crazily from side to side, looking as if some animalistic instinct was overtaking him. Eliozar ever so slowly slid over a few feet in her seat. "I think the commander might need some aspirin," she told the other cops.

"I need no help," Evil Cabel grumbled in a high, cold voice, "I just want to crack some skulls."

Mount stared at him. "I think the lieutenant's right; you need help," he said slowly.

"Ah, the hell with it," Daniel abruptly stopped in the middle of the lane, apparently giving up on finding parking. There was the squealing of brakes as the cruisers behind him managed to stop before colliding. "I give up too," the driver of the squad car behind them agreed, "There's just too many reporters and their stupid fans here."

"Fall in," came the order from their leaders, who'd also failed to find a parking space. All the police, agents, and soldiers formed a long line. "Looking good," Mercer told them all as he and his comrades in arms walked up and down the line inspecting them, "Put on your buttons."

"Do we have to?" a trooper complained.

"We are still in the middle of a campaign here, LaFong," Mercer told him. With a large amount of sighs, the law enforcement men all pulled out large purple campaign buttons inscribed, MERCER'S ENFORCERS SAY, "NOBODY BEATS BURTON!" and pinned them on their uniforms. "All right, cover all the exits, let's move out!" he said, waving them toward the park. A crush of reporters met him there. "Mr. Mercer, George Haroldson has claimed that you're deliberating running away from the campaign trail," one of them asked him as he pushed his way through their midst, "Do you have any comment?"

"Unlike George Haroldson, I believe in efficiency," Mercer said grandly, "That's why I'm finishing what I started twenty years ago and bringing the Blues Brothers to the justice they deserve."

Loud boos rang out form a crowd of bystanders all dressed in black hats and sunglasses. "Ah, shut up or we'll tow you all in!" Marvin snarled at them. The crowd tossed refreshments at them all. "This is going to be fun, really, really fun," Suntzman grumbled, ducking several bags of popcorn, "Let's hope they have the decency to show after their legions come out in force like this."

* * *

Around the back entrance to City Walk, the guard at the gate waved for the car coming toward the gate to stop. "Evening Chuck," he told the driver, "What brings you here tonight?"

"Ronnie said he needed some filmstrips for the shoot on the back lot tomorrow," Betz pointed to the boxes in the rear of the car, "Go ahead and check them out if you want."

"That's OK Chuck," the guard waved him into the complex. Once the car was out of sight, Mack popped his head out of one of the boxes. "Check them out if you want?" he said incredulously to his driver, "You're lucky I didn't have a coronary!"

"Well you're in, aren't you?" Betz said, stopping the car near a sewer opening. "This leads directly underneath the stage," he informed them, popping the cover, "If I heard what your associates said correctly, they'll have set up coffins on the back of the stage for you to climb in and get revealed with, since this is the big horror studio historically, and since it's Halloween anyway."

"I've sensed the presence of the next part of the Relic down on the lower lot," Jake announced, "It's going to take a little creativity, but I think we can make this work, Elwood."

"Down in the sewers?" Zee looked a little unhappy with the thought.

"It's the only way, bud," Jake patted him on the shoulder, "All right, let's get in place, boys; it's ten minutes to show time."

* * *

Outside the new Sir Balan's Enchanted Journey ride near the drop off to the lower level, the crowds were starting to congregate around the stage Sam and Dave had built out in front of the attraction—the stage that had been built to look exactly like the blues club background Curtis had somehow created at the Palace Hotel Ballroom twenty years ago. On the back of the stage, Latifah looked around. "I hope they have good crowd control," she confided in Clarence, who was slipping on a sparkling blue tuxedo Betz had managed to find for him through the services of one of his friends in the Universal wardrobe department.

"Sweetie, I've played before larger and more raucous crowds than this," Clarence said, flexing his muscles, "This is nothing."

"Well did the army and highway patrol ever show up for any of them?" Latifah couldn't help noticing the authorities gathering in the back, holding their weapons high.

"Not for me," Clarence shrugged, "but why should we worry? It's them they're after."

"Easy for you to say," Mr. Fabulous snorted from behind his podium, "They weren't after us either, and we still got locked up for three years for conspiracy."

"Oh God, they got you for conspiracy?" Tom Scott gulped, "Remind me what I'm doing here again?"

"You can't back out now," Clarence informed them, "One thing Curtis and I always agreed on was finishing what we started." Turning back to the young attorney, he said, "Give me my intro."

Latifah nodded and walked out on stage. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, we're proud to welcome you to Universal Studios Hollywood, for the launching of the ride for Sir Balan's Quest, the fastest film ever to reach one hundred million dollars," she announced to the crowd, who gave a surprisingly warm applause. "Our main show will begin momentarily," she continued, "but until then, he's one of the greatest rhythm and blues entertainers in the world, with over twenty songs reaching number one on the rhythm and blues charts. Won't you please welcome the legend of our time, Mr. Clarence Craycroft."

The applause was more scattered as Clarence strutted out to the center of the stage. Many of the audience members apparently had no idea whatsoever who he was. "Hello Los Angeles," he announced, "On behalf of the Blues Brothers, let's get this party started. Boys, give me 'John the Revelator.'"

"I never heard of that one," Mercer openly commented in the back row as the band struck up the number.

"You wouldn't, whitey," snorted the elderly black man next to him. Mercer paid no attention to the comment. "Well, at least the old guy's a good dancer, I'll give him that, don't you Ness," he asked his dog.

"Mr. Mercer, for the record, whose side are you on here?" Daniel raised an eyebrow at him.

* * *

In the tunnel underneath the park, Jake abruptly groaned loudly and sank to his knees. "What?" Elwood rushed to him, concerned.

"Hell's been breached," Jake moaned, clutching his chest, "The process is starting. We've got to stop this soon, or it's going to break wide open."

"But if it's going to break open now, why would they bother going through with their plans to release the devil on Halloween?" Zee inquired.

"Demons can get out, but the prince of darkness is permanently trapped in his realm unless those who believe his evil ways let him out," Jake explained, "And if Hell on Earth becomes a reality, then me and the quadrillions of other angels up there will fade away into absolutely nothing."

"So heaven will just disappear?" Katrina asked him, helping Elwood haul Jake to his feet.

"Exactly pumpkin," Jake told her, "And pogroms and lynchings and other nasty facets of our existence in the mortal world will become the rule rather than the exception."

Armstrong whimpered at this thought. "And you're not safe either, bud," Jake told the dog, "Animals will be beaten into servititude for his Darkness. You'll be a slave, essentially."

"Hey you guys," came the call from down the tunnel. Sam and Dave were waving to them. "Just a minute," Elwood called to them. "So are ya gonna be all right for tonight, Jake?" he asked his brother.

"I'll be fine," Jake said, rubbing his chest, "You and the others get up on stage and do your act, then you break off after a couple of numbers and come with me again. And good luck again."

Elwood nodded. He and the others strolled over to Sam and Dave. "I guess Mr. Betz told you how we're going to do the reveal tonight," the latter said, "We've rigged smoke machines inside to make your entrance more dramatic. Your pal Mr. Craycroft should be finishing up a minute or so. The signal is a three to one, got it."

"Got it," Elwood told him.

"So what about my idea?" Keith posed to the musician as they climbed up a ladder into the ride house. An emergency exit door was ajar, leading to the back of the stage and the coffins.

"Well, I guess we could close out with a couple of your songs while Jake and me get the Relic," Elwood reasoned, "But like I said, let's not overdo it. We are the Blues Brothers after all."

"I know," Keith agreed. Elwood slipped the briefcase handcuff onto his wrist and tossed Zee the key. "Don't lose it," he told him before slipping into the coffin on the far right, which bore his name. The back door slid shut behind him, leaving him in a tight squeeze. He could hear grunting to his left; apparently Mack's coffin was a bit too small for him. Elwood pressed his ear against the coffin lid. Clarence seemed to be putting on a fine show. It came to an end all too soon for him to enjoy, though, which meant his entrance was nigh. He tapped three times on the coffin door. He heard Clarence tap back once, followed by the strains of "Can't Turn You Loose." "And now for the moment you've been waiting for," Clarence announced to the crowd, "Here they come, straight from Calumet City, Illinois, the last pure bastion of blues in the nation, let's give a warm welcome to Elwood J. Blues and the Bluuuuuuuues Brothers!"

The coffin's internal smoke machines had started up, leaving Elwood coughing as he pushed the lid open and stumbled out on stage. He glanced out over the applauding crowd, many of whom were rather young looking. There had to be almost five hundred of them, crowding into every available part of the park. Apparently they weren't as forgotten a group as he'd first thought. "Like my pal Clarence said, good evening, L.A." he told them once the whole ritual with the briefcase had been played out again, "You know, back in Chicago, our foster Mom Sister Stigmata would take us out to the movies every Saturday afternoon, so they were kinda part of our lives like they are yours. On the special occasion of this new ride opening, we're gonna start the show off with an old favorite of mine, 'B Movie Box Car Blues.' Brother Zee?"

"One, two, one two three four!" Zee boomed in the cue to start the show. Elwood dug heavily into his harp with the rhythm. In the back of the crowd his saw the Black Diamond Riders and Good Old Boys pushing their way through the masses. Hopefully Jake had a few more tricks up his sleeve that would allow for another quick escape as he had back in Louisiana.

Speaking of Jake, his brother was now leaning on the back of the stage, snapping his fingers along with the beat. Nobody seemed to notice him, however, leading Elwood to believe he'd made himself invisible again. After the band had finished the first song and was halfway through "Rubber Biscuit" for the second one, he saw Jake gesture for him to come with him. "Good luck kid," he whispered over the equipment to Keith as he danced offstage. "So what've ya got, Jake?" he asked.

"Hold on," Jake took Elwood's hand, then sprouted his wings and soared off into the dusky air. He arced down the mountain toward the lower lot, and the old E.T. building. "Uh, ain't people gonna notice me floatin' in the air like this, Jake," Elwood had to ask.

"I've extended the veil to include you too, Elwood," Jake said. Elwood found further proof of this when the two of them passed through the solid roof of the building without any difficulties. Elwood glanced in amazement at his hands. "That's somethin' you don't see every day," he commented.

"Let me see now," Jake scanned the walls of the ride. He walked through several different sets, mumbling something under his breath. Finally, he stopped behind a police car and stared at what looked like a blank wall. Then he abruptly said something in a strange dialect that echoed loudly throughout the building—and from what Elwood could surmise as he covered his ears in pain, all the way down to San Diego. "Cherubese," Jake explained as a hole abruptly appeared in the wall, "It's what we speak upstairs most of the time when we don't use our earthly tongues. Follow me."

Elwood saw a long staircase descending down into the darkness. He shrugged and followed after his brother. Down and down they went, the passageway twisting and turning in all directions. Close to what Elwood figured was a half hour went by, with still no end in sight. "Couldn't we have just taken the elevator?" he panted, feeling like he'd gotten enough exercise for the rest of the year.

"You're not giving up, are you?" Jake asked him.

"Nope. This is fun, really Jake. Kinda like what that Larry Cotter kid goes through in each of his stories, Buster tells me."

"You're really out of touch with popular culture, you know that Elwood?" Jake said, but he was smiling.

The stairs finally came to an end. They were now in a small cavern with different passageways leading in all directions. Jake examined all of them slowly. "This way," he said finally, leading Elwood down the tunnel second from the left. The tunnel very quickly gave way to a rickety suspension bridge over a bottomless pit. Elwood gripped the sides tightly as they made their way over it. This is gonna hold, right?" he had to ask, "They always seem to fail in the movies."

"Just have faith, brother, and we'll make it," Jake said. Elwood tried to think positive thoughts. This apparently worked, as they made it over without falling. They were now in an even larger cavern, in the middle of which was…

"Hey who…?" Elwood started to say out loud, but Jake quickly make a "SHHHHH!" gesture at him, and for good reason. For in front of them was a giant red sleeping dragon. Its snores echoed loudly against the walls. Right behind it was an altar littered with dozens of glowing crosses of all sorts of precious jewels. The two brothers tiptoed past the dragon as quietly as they could. They looked over everything before them. "So which one is it?" Elwood asked in a barely audible whisper.

"We've got only one chance at this," Jake wasn't very reassuring, "If we pick the wrong one, we'll both be burned alive by fire and brimstone. See if you can help me on this, Elwood."

"How can I…" Elwood suddenly felt a sensation inside of himself, one he could explain. He glanced over the halves of crosses. An old, beaten-up one in the far corner seemed to be glowing. It didn't look like it was even remotely valuable, but Elwood knew immediately this was the piece they were looking for. He grabbed it. Nothing happened. Jake, however, was beaming. "You got it, Elwood," he lauded him, "I guess some of Father Solomon Delaney's vibes are in your bloodlines after all. Well, let's get this out of here while…"

Suddenly from the entrance came hundreds of unearthly shrieks. Jake turned pale. "Oh damn, I didn't realize they could do that yet!" he groaned out loud, which had the negative effect of waking the dragon up. It looked around at the trespassers into its lair and roared at the top of its lungs. A fireball erupted from its throat, destroying the altar behind it and sending the brothers diving for safety. To make matter worse, the chamber was abruptly invaded by hundreds of demons, which bore straight at Jake. The angel howled in pain as they attacked him. He was just alert enough to roll aside as another blast from the dragon fried the spot he'd been laying. "Elwood, the Relic!" he shouted, "Use it!"

"How?" Elwood asked, staring at it. A swipe from the dragon's front claw sent him scrambling. Several demons tried to grab at him—but were forced to recoil the moment they came close to the cross. Elwood stared at it. The next thing he knew, a fire extinguisher had materialized with it in his hands. He looked up to see the dragon rearing its head back for another blast of fire. Thinking quickly, he pulled the pin and fired a blast of water at the dragon's mouth just as it started exhaling flame. The dragon sputtered for a moment, then puffed out steam. Elwood had disabled its only weapon. Whimpering, it thundered off into the darkness in the back of the cavern. Feeling more confident, Elwood ran toward the demons attacking Jake, brandishing the cross. They immediately retreated once he got close. Jake groaned as he staggered to his feet. "Good thinking," he commended his brother, "Now let's fly."

Holding the cross out behind him to keep the demons at bay, he took Elwood's hand and raced at the speed of sound back across the bridge and up the stairs in less than fifteen seconds. Once back in the ride, he took the cross off Elwood and pressed it against the opening they just come through. It sealed itself in a blaze of fire. "That won't hold them for long," he confided in Elwood as they ran out the emergency exit, "Once they figure out…"

"FREEZE!" came an unexpected shout. The building was surrounded by dozens of cops with their firearms raised. "It's all over, Elwood!" Daniel told him, "There's nowhere left for you to run!"

"I don't think so, boys," Jake stepped in front of his brother. Several guns fell to the ground as troopers jumped in shock. "But you're dead!" somebody shouted.

"Funny about death, no matter how dead they may seem, they always come back one way or another, am I right, James Malvern Suntzman?" Jake's statement was aimed directly at the warden in the back of the crowd. His voice had an almost venomous tinge to it, Elwood thought If it was meant to intimidate Suntzman, it did; the warden was now white in the face. "You're not real!" he was shrieking, making the sign of the cross, "You can't be!"

"If I weren't real, could I do THIS?" Jake took a deep breath and blew an incredibly thick stew of fog at the cops. Cries of, "I can't see!" rang out as the law enforcement agents stumbled around blindly in the soup. Jake snapped his fingers, and the Bluesmobile magically appeared in front of Elwood and himself. "Floor it," Jake instructed him as he tossed the cross into the glove compartment, "They should be almost done up top."

"Right," Elwood hit the accelerator. The Bluesmobile lurched toward the escalators to the upper lot, only to find it blocked by jeeps full of heavily armed soldiers. With no other option, Elwood swerved into the Jurassic Park ride queue, sending park patrons jumping into the bushes for cover. "Don't mind us," Elwood called out the window at them, "Just another chase, nothin' to worry about."

There was a splash as the Bluesmobile landed in the water and started driving along the ride's length. The fact that the water was coming up over the hood, leaving Elwood with a waterline view of the route ahead of him, didn't seem to be slowing down the car any bit. He didn't have time to take much in, however, several police, FBI, and army cars were following his lead. Several of them were clearly flooding out from his viewpoint at the top of the rise, but others had enough power to continue the chase. "Welcome to Jurassic Park," Elwood mused as he plowed through the big gate.

"Very nice this ride," Jake said, waving to a fake stegosaurus off the port side, "Went through it invisibly a couple of times after it was built."

"Seems to be," Elwood wasn't fazed when a raptor abruptly lurched out of the water on the starboard side. He checked the odometer. They were going a respectable sixty miles an hour despite the water. The cops behind them seemed to be able to get to fifty, tops. "You'll have to pick up the pace if you want to lose them," Jake pointed out, "At least with your little escapade in the river a few years ago, we know you can work this baby well in these conditions."

"I never tried these conditions though," Elwood had reached the lift hill into the central control building, but was finding traction difficult halfway up. He poured it all on as the wheels spun. "Just put it in neutral," Jake suggested, "We are going up after all."

"Right,." Elwood realized sheepishly. The authorities had gotten the same idea, and as such were still right on his tail as they reached the top and swerved past raging tyrannosauruses and other carnivores. Ahead of them loomed the big drop. "Start believing," Jake said cryptically, then squeezed his face tight as if concentrating. Elwood caught on and stared ahead at the jump, thinking, "I'M GONNA MAKE THIS." His faith paid off beautifully, as the Bluesmobile soared over the fall and crashed through the wall, landing on the hillside outside. The pursuing cop cars' attempts to follow resulted only in them falling down the drop and crashing in a heap at the bottom of the ride.

"It just takes faith," Jake patted his brother on the back for believing, "They should be into the closing number right about now, so head back to the stage; we'll pick them all up."

"Gotcha," Elwood shifted into third gear and trudged up the steep slope to the upper lot. Once they crested the hill, they crashed through the Terminator 2-3D building rather pointlessly, crushing a Terminator robot and making the audience cry out in awe, apparently thinking this was all part of the show. More police and FBI units were hot on their trail as they smashed out the back of the building and made a beeline for the stage. Their associates were crowded on the edge of the stage, waiting for them as they finished their last song. Elwood blew the horn to clear a path, then dug out the Bluesmobile's remote control and pulled the door trigger as he braked to a stop. "What took you guys?" Zee demanded as they all piled in and Elwood sped off, "We were running out of songs."

"Hell tried to stop us directly, but we got away just in time," Jake told him. He was clutching the wound in his chest from where he'd been slashed by the demons. "Head for the tram tour Elwood; we might be able to lose them in there."

"Right," Elwood steered his car toward the stairs leading to the world-famous tour, "Should we call Babs and let her know we're comin'?"


	23. Freeway Madness

**TWENTY-THREE **

"Welcome to the world-famous Universal Studios tram tour," the guide told the group of tourists piling into the trams in front of him, "For your safety, we ask you to keep your hands inside the…"

His spiel got no further, as it was at that moment the Bluesmobile roared over the embankment, sending both him and his guests scattering. The old cop car sideswiped the tram, knocking it over, and sped down the tram's intended path, shattering the billboards of past Universal films as it went. A myriad of cop cars were right behind them, as well as the Black Diamond Riders' bikes and Tucker's Winnebago.

Deep in the bottom of the ravine, Ron Howard was walking among a large group of actors, many dressed as cops, in the middle of a set made to look like a San Francisco street flooded with water. "All right, you know what we do here," he informed them all, "When I say action, you chase the bad guys across the road here and hydroplane out of control. The wilder the better, got it? All right, places then."

The actors scrambled to their cars. "Scene 45, Take 4, marker," the assistant director said, clapping the slate in front of the camera.

"Speed," announced the cameraman.

"Action," Howard ordered. The on screen chase commenced—and was promptly overtaken by the Bluesmobile chase. Both real and fake cop cars hydroplaned out of control on the water and smashed up several buildings. "Cut, excellent!" Howard announced over his megaphone, "That was even better than I'd…guys, where'd you go?"

For his actors had joined the chase, confused as to whether it was real or not. Up front, Elwood blew his horn as he swerved around a slower tram. "They think they own the roads," he commented to everyone else.

"Are we going anywhere in particular here?" Zee was looking rather sick again.

"Collapsing bridge," Elwood noted as he zoomed over the landmark. He spun wildly toward the southwest. Several army jeeps were starting to gain on him. "Got any more tricks up your sleeve, Jake?" he asked his brother.

"I haven't begun to fight yet," Jake was trying to smile through gritted teeth; the demon wounds hurt him more than he was willing to let on. He snapped his fingers as they passed through the sleepy Mexican town. Immediately the jeeps were hit by the floodwaters, which seemed to be a lot heavier than usual, and swept them off the road.

In the middle of the pack, Mercer zipped through the floodwaters, drenching everyone inside his car completely. "It sure seems lot more real up close," he remarked.

"Too bad for us," Agent Orange groaned. His suit was now completely ruined. He and General Storrs groaned again as Ness shook himself off, further saturating them.

Back in the Bluesmobile, Elwood glanced a blow off a set of a New York street, which tipped it over and started a chain reaction of falling sets. "I hope we're going to pay for all this," Cabel cautioned.

"We'll send them a check," Elwood said quickly. His escape route was now blocked by several FBI cars, which forced him to detour through the King Kong building. Jake snapped his fingers as they passed Kong himself. The giant ape picked up the FBI cars as they passed and shook them wildly. The startled agents bailed their vehicles just before Kong started crunching away on them. A quick trip off-road led to the "river." Jake snapped his fingers, causing the waters to automatically part for them. No sooner had they crested the other bank than the river flooded back into place, inundating the leading cruisers. The chase then went through several deserted soundstages and the Earthquake ride. Several more trams were run off the road along the way. As they passed the Jaws attraction, a wave of Jake's hand caused Bruce the shark to leap halfway out of the water and bite the tire off the leading FBI car, disabling it. The cars behind it smashed it off the bridge and into the lagoon.

"Head up the hill after the Mummy Tunnel," Jake instructed Elwood as Whoville was flattened, "We can cut over into L.A. I sense they've blocked the 101 outside the park, but not the city itself."

"Probably we should hit the expressway eventually though," Mack spoke up, "That way we'll be able to go as fast as we can."

That's the idea," Elwood went off road again, smashing through the cabin from The Great Outdoors. He hit the Mummy Tunnel straight on, then made a hard left up the hill Jake had mentioned. Once at the top, they found themselves flying over the Hollywood Freeway and landing on the other side. "To the left," Jake instructed as the wail of sirens came from up the road. Nor was this their only problem; Terrell's goons soon surrounded them again. "These guys never no just when to give up," Cabel commented as gunfire raked the Bluesmobile again, "This is the third time they've broken firearms regulations in the last week."

"So we know," Elwood could see law enforcement vehicles streaming out of the park and across the freeway after them in his rearview mirror. He zoomed through the drug dealers' cordon and zipped up over the hill. Metropolitan Los Angeles loomed below them. With the downhill route, the Bluesmobile once again skirted with eighty miles an hour as it sped into town and blew through five consecutive red lights. Traffic abruptly pulled over, apparently hearing about what had happened in previous chases on the news. "There's the old Walk of Fame," Mack pointed at Hollywood Boulevard, "There were days I dreamed of getting my name on a star."

"Maybe you still will," Katrina told him encouragingly.

"If we can survive this all," for once, Zee wasn't looking terrified by the chase. "Say Elwood, do you suppose you could hang a right onto Beverly Boulevard once we get there?" he asked him.

Jake put his hand to his natural brother's head. "So that's it, huh?" he asked him, "Well, I'm going to have to break a few normal guidelines for that, but since I can tell you want it bad enough, it's worth it."

* * *

On the stage inside CBS Television City, Bob Barker was trying to relax the excited old woman who'd won her way up on stage. "So Edith, you've come all the way from Winnipeg to be the first contestant on The Price is Right's Million Dollar Spectacular," he told her, "Well, for one of our loyal friends and true in Canada, we've got something very special; take a look over there!"

He pointed toward the wings. "It's a new car!" Rich Fields announced as a Lincoln Town Car was rolled out—and abruptly sideswiped by the Bluesmobile, which unexpectedly roared onto the stage, sending Barker and the contestant diving for the safety of Contestant's Row. "And a police car!" Fields continued announcing as the chase entered the studio, "And another police car! And another police car! And another police car! And another police car! And another police car!"

It was just as the Bluesmobile was about to exit through Door #3 that reality suddenly froze. As Barker stared in shock at everyone around him standing stock still, Zee hopped out of the Bluesmobile and ran over toward him. "Hi Bob, let me just say it's the pleasure of my life to actually meet you face to face," he said in an excited voice.

"And who are you?" Barker asked weakly.

"Oh, uh, Zee Papageorge," Zee shook the host's hand, "They said on TV you were doing the special live tonight, and since I was in the area, I can't resist stopping by. Can I have your autograph?"

"Uh, sure, sure," Barker dug into his pocket for a pencil and paper and signed his name.

"Speed it up a little, this only last thirty seconds and all," Jake called out. Indeed, everyone was starting to move again very slowly. "May I ask what this is all about?" Barker asked, staring in amazement at what was happening.

"Nothing you'd probably understand, Bob. Thanks for the John Hancock," Zee gave his hand one final shaking and ran back to the Bluesmobile. Once he was inside, reality returned to normal, and the former police car smashed through the door and demolished the Lucky Seven board that had been set up behind it. "I always wanted to meet Bob Barker," Zee was still pumped up, "And as much as I hate these wild rides, I can't thank you enough for doing this for me."

"So do you think he's excited?" Buster remarked to Elwood semi-sarcastically.

"Hey, I'd be feelin' the same way if I'd met Muddy Waters," Elwood told his ward as he zipped backstage into the CBS prize warehouse, where he significantly lowered the actual retail price of many prizes. Crashing out the back door, he blindsided several CBS News trucks parked nearby and went through the back wall into the farmer's market next door. The Bluesmobile took out several more shops before heading back out onto the street. By now news choppers were starting to gather overhead.

In the middle of the pack, Mercer's engine was starting to sputter. "Come on baby, don't give out on me now!" the department of corrections chairman pleaded with it, pumping the gas pedal.

"I think if you'd gotten yourself a car with better mileage and traction, we wouldn't be in a mess like this, Mercer," Agent Orange chided him.

"Don't be a wet blanket, Orange, we're not dead in the water yet," Mercer retorted. His attitude was in contrast to the smoke now billowing from under the hood. When ahead of them the Bluesmobile made a flying leap over the La Brea Tar Pits, his car only managed a weak jump a quarter of the way across the tar pits before splattering into the tar. "Damn!" Mercer kicked the steering wheel in frustration. Seeing the car was now sinking into the tar pit, he and the others scrambled frantically to shore. "Daniel, stop!" Mercer waved his arms at his right hand man's cruiser, which ground to a halt in front of him. "We don't have the room, Mr. Mercer," Daniel protested as his boss squeezed his way between himself and Mount.

"It's good enough until we catch them," Mercer pulled Ness in over Daniel, "Floor it."

"You're getting mud all over the floor!" Lieutenant Eliozar protested as General Storrs sat down practically on top of her.

"Do you think we could help it the way he drives?" Storrs pointed at Mercer, who ignored his comments. "Attention all agents," Agent Orange barked over his still-working radio, "Bluesmobile now heading back toward Hollywood Freeway; set up strategic roadblocks within ten miles in each direction!"

Ahead of them, Elwood tore down the on ramp onto the 101. "Once we get on the 5 we'll be fine," he announced.

"I think every cop in L.A.'s now after us," Mack looked out the shattered back window. The line of law enforcement vehicles stretched all the way back up the hill, and the wailing of sirens was now almost deafening.

"Let them come, they're not going to catch us," Elwood told him.

"Not when we're on a mission from God, right?" Keith patted him on the shoulder.

"Roadblock," Cabel pointed out. Three FBI cars blocked the road near the start of the Pomona Freeway. Elwood simply accelerated and plowed right through it. A few miles later they merged into the Santa Ana Freeway. Interstate 5 seemed rather deserted for this time of night, Elwood thought. Which was fine by him, as it gave him more leeway to work with. He quickly accelerated back up to a hundred and twenty miles an hour. Bridges and overpasses flew by in a blur. The vehicles that were on the road quickly pulled over after seeing what was coming their way. At every interchange, more police cars roared onto the freeway to join the chase. Just above the Interstate 710 interchange, another larger roadblock with army trucks blocked the highway. This time, Elwood aimed for the weak spot between two hastily parked trucks and just managed to squeeze through with minimal damage to his car. The trucks were knocked over by the armada of cruisers.

Near the back of the line, Mad Dog McMurdo was caught up in the thrill of the chase. "YAAAAHOOOO!" this is what I live for!" the biker exclaimed, pumping his shotgun in the air, "The open road at high speed! And I love a good chase!"

"Same here," Tucker called out the window of his Winnebago, "And at least this time they ain't tampered with my baby to hinder us."

"Now if we could just get around these dang cops," Bob pointed to the myriad of cop cars blocking their forward progress.

"Give it some patience, Bob," the country singer told him, "Sooner or later they'll run out of gas."

"Not us, nosirree," another biker who'd been overhearing the conversation from outside the open window piped up, "Nothing slows down the Black Diamond Riders."

Back in front, Elwood swerved wildly around a slower van. It was then he became aware of an announcer talking. "Hey kid, what've ya got there?" he asked Keith.

"Streaming video," Keith held up his laptop for Elwood to see, "One of the wonders of the Internet. We can watch our own progress live."

"Amazin'," Elwood stared at the screen. On it was a picture perfect image of the Bluesmobile screaming down the interstate. "I didn't know ya could do that nowadays. Well, so much for the evenin' news."

"Uh, you think you want to watch the road and not the screen?" Zee pointed just as the Bluesmobile was about to rear-end a truck. Elwood jerked over to the far left lane just in time.

"Let me," Jake put on hand on the laptop and pointed the index finger on his other hand at the windshield. Elwood found himself watching both the road and the computer at the same time. It was somewhat amazing to see his pursuers from a neutral point of view as from the news helicopters. "…utterly unbelievable," the announcer was saying, "Our aerial reconnaissance shows the Bluesmobile is actually going a hundred and forty-two miles an hour. Needless to say, if you plan on driving anywhere in southern California tonight, please, stay off the roads until this mess is over. Looking back, the authorities trying to catch the notoriously slippery Elwood Blues stretch out for miles; this might well turn out to be the largest mobilization of police authority in the history of this country. Let's go to our Fox News law analyst Arnold Mensch, who will try and lay out the situation for us. Arnold, what do you think will be Elwood Blues's next move?"

"Well Bill," said a stuffy lawyer type, "From what I've heard from legal experts in Illinois, one should expect the reckless when it comes to Elwood Blues. He's probably going to stay at top speed to keep his lead he's got right now. The best bet for the authorities would probably be to keep him locked up on the freeway until he runs out of gas, which if he keeps going at the rate of speed he is now should occur just after he enters San Diego County."

"And then should they go in for the move?"

"That would depend on how desperate he is, Bill. With three children in the car, local and federal authorities may not want to move in for the kill immediately. They may try and talk him into letting them go first, then try and get him before he takes off. Of course there's the possibility he might commandeer another car and continue this romp further."

"TV of the future, gotta love it," Elwood commented, "Well, hate to disappoint them, but…" Without warning, he swerved hard to the left and crashed through the median barrier. "OOOOHHH! Did you see that!" the commentator exclaimed, "I don't know how he did that without wrecking the car!"

"You don't know this car very well, do you, pal?" Jake chuckled. There was another small pileup as the authorities tried to break to a halt near the gap in the barrier. Those that could get through the break continued to follow their quarry back up the northbound lanes. Many of the cars that were farther back threw themselves into reverse and swarmed up the southbound lanes backwards. "This is just incredible," the commentator was telling his audience, "I never thought I'd live to see the day when hundreds of people would be driving the wrong way up a freeway just to catch a group of musicians."

"Uh, I think our friends are back," Zee pointed out the right side window. The drug dealers' cars had apparently stopped near an off ramp and had gotten back on Interstate 5 northbound. A spray of bullets tore into the roof. Inside his limo, Terrell rubbed his hands in excitement. Now we've got them dead to rights," he snickered.

"Shall I get out the bazookas Ty?" Vinnie asked him, pressing the button for the sunroof.

"Wait until we get closer," his brother said, "And away from all these cops."

"I think they might start chasing after us," the driver gulped. Indeed, several cruisers had followed their lead and were following them north.

"If they do we'll blow them away too," Terrell hefted a semi-automatic and climbed out the sunroof. He let out a salvo at the Bluesmobile that blew out the taillights and caused the rear bumper to fall off. Elwood swerved all over the highway in response. "Better give 'em a moving target," he reasoned, "So Jake, where's the last piece of the relic, so I know where I'm running to?"

"The last piece is underneath Yankee Stadium, so we're going to book a concert there just before Game 7 on October 30th," Jake said.

"Drat, so the Yanks'll push it to seven games?" Zee was disappointed.

"It'll be another disappointment for Cubs fans, yeah, but if the world does end, at least they'll be able to say they played in the very last World Series," Jake tried to reassure him.

"Well, at least I know they win in 2015 over the Miami Gators," Zee said jokingly, "Good old Doc Brown; you could put him to shame with knowledge over the future, Jake."

"So the Miami Gators play ball now?" Elwood asked.

"It's a movie, Elwood," Buster informed him, "The real Miami team's called the Marlins."

"Gators sound better," Elwood suggested, "So, whatdya say, should I cut over on I-10 in a coupla miles, or should I wait until I-80 up near Frisco?"

"I'm not going to live with this for the next four hundred miles!" Zee ducked as a fresh spray of bullets him the seats."

"But the police will be waiting for us at the 10," Mack had produced a map, "I say we get off at Route 134 and take the Pasadena to the Foothill to the Orange to I-10. That's a little out of the way, but not too much."

"Works for me," Elwood said, "I guess we'll pull off once we get by this roadblock."

Another group of army trucks had been parked across the freeway, this time closer together than in the previous roadblock. Plus, their personnel were standing in front of them, guns raised. "It looks like they're going to attempt to stop the Bluesmobile by force now," the commentator said, "Those are three thousand pound trucks, I don't quite see how they'll get out of this one without crashing."

"Let's see about that," Jake sucked in his breath. The next thing Elwood knew, the Bluesmobile contracted around him. "How nice," he remarked, feeling like he'd lost about seventy pounds. Now only about an inch wide, the Bluesmobile easily made it through the largest gap between the trucks, returning to its original dimensions once it was safely across. "HOOOOO BOOYYY!" the commentator was screaming, "How in God's name did he do that unscathed? As you can the see, the Bluesmobile was going to hit those….look out, we've got a crash coming!"

Indeed, the drug dealers were unable to stop, and crashed hard into the trucks, completely destroying their own cars. Terrell, who wasn't wearing a seatbelt, was flung hard through the air, landing with a thud on the pavement. "Oww!" he yelled, "I don't get what the…!"

"Hey, you're Tyrone Terrell!" an FBI car was next to them in the southbound lanes, "We've got charges on you including racketeering and…!"

Terrell wasn't going to wait for him to finish—not that he had a choice, as the authorities were streaming up the freeway through a larger gap in the failed blockade. He had little choice but to run for his life.

Up the road, Elwood made a hard right down the exit ramp for Route 134 eastbound. "How much further to I-10 again, Mack?" he asked the former bartender.

"Uh, looks like about thirty-five miles," Mack consulted the map again, "Sooner or later we've got to turn north if we want to get to New York by the thirtieth."

"Once we hit an interstate that ends with a 5," Keith told him, "That's when we could connect with a route that connects with an interstate that heads east."

"If we can get to a 5-numbered interstate," Zee had noticed even more law enforcement vehicles were now following them. "…see now sheriff's deputies from about a dozen communities in the Los Angeles metro area have joined in the chase of the Blues Brothers," the commentator was now saying, "At last check this brings the numbers of local, state, and federal vehicles in this chase up to about five hundred and thirty, we've just been told."

Inside Suntzman's car, which was leading this second charge of authorities, Marvin cocked his rifle. "Try and aim for the tires, Marvin," his boss told him, "There's no way they can reinflate them."

"And don't hit my son whatever you do," Tony Danson warned the head guard as he leaned out the window.

"Trust me," Marvin told him. He took aim, but before he could pull the trigger, Suntzman abruptly hit a pothole. Marvin's shot accidentally hit a tanker truck in the right lane, which tipped over and broke open, spilling out soapsuds all over the highways. Suntzman slipped on the suds and lost control, flipping over repeatedly. No fewer than forty other cars behind him also crashed spectacularly, blocking all but one lane. Inside His new command cruiser, Mount slapped the dashboard in frustration as they made their way in gridlocked single file through the one open lane. "Why can no one follow these turkeys without crashing?" he roared in disgust.

"Shhh!" Mercer hissed at him, "Seymour, roll tape."

His campaign manager activated his camera. "Hey Burton Mercer here live on the road in Glendale after the Blues Brothers," he started to say, "The going's getting a little rough here, but we're still…."

General Storrs grabbed the camera and threw it out the window. "Hey, what was that for?" Mercer protested.

"Are we catching them or grandstanding?" Storrs yelled. He pulled out his radio. "Attention everyone, cover the Foothill Freeway east of Pasadena!" he barked, "I want everything you ca spare put there; tell the feds and local cops to get all they've got too! I want the mother of all blockades covering all lanes of the 210; they do not get through under any…!"

"WHOOOOOOOAAA!" Daniel swerved wildly to the left. Elwood had partially gone down an exit ramp, then pulled back up onto the freeway at the last minute. As a result, a dozen cruisers and FBI cars were flipping down the embankment. That was close," the highway patrol captain breathed once he'd avoid this later mishap, "I'm definitely getting too old for this!"

"I'm definitely getting to old for this," Elwood was thinking the exact same thing at that moment. He merged onto eastbound Interstate 210.

"Now's not the time to give up," Jake said. "We've still got a long way to go before we finish this mission."

"Hopefully we won't run out of gas," Cabel voiced a concern.

"We won't Elwood reassured him, "We're on a mission from God."

"Uh, I hope God has some good ideas up his sleeve right now!" Zee pointed out the windshield. A mess of tanks, trucks, S.W.A.T. vans, and other law enforcement vehicles barricaded the road. The unmistakable sound of turrets being turned toward them and artillery guns being activated filled the air. No less than a hundred law enforcers aimed weapons at them. "You have till three to stop!" one of them barked, "One, two,…!"

And without warning, the Bluesmobile was jerked off the ground and sailed up toward the stars. "OH GOD!" Zee groaned, covering his face, "I didn't mean THIS drastic a save!"

"Shouldn't we call LAX to let them know we're up here?" Elwood asked Jake, who was concentrating hard.

"Just keep pointing her east, Elwood, and I'll take care of the rest," Jake told him. The Bluesmobile narrowly missed a collision with a police helicopter and sailed east across the sky toward far-off New York.


	24. Out of Luck

It was close to sunrise the next morning when the Bluesmobile started slowly descending to the ground. It touched down with a jolt in the middle of a forest clearing, jostling its passengers. Elwood braked it to a stop near the edge of the clearing. "What time is it?" Mack sleepily woke up, "And where are we?"

"Central Virginia," Jake hopped out of the old police car, "By the time the authorities catch up to us, we should have succeeded in reeling in the final piece of the relic. Anyway, I sensed a church about two miles to the north of here, so I'll go recharge and be back in about ten minutes or so, then we'll be on the road again."

"I'll go walk Armstrong while you're gone," Keith snapped the leash they'd gotten off Betz around the dog's collar, "It's been a while since he's had proper exercise, I can tell."

"Just don't go too far," Elwood told him as he led Armstrong across the clearing. He leaned against the Bluesmobile's hood. "Can't believe this whole thing's almost over already," he confided in Zee, who'd climbed out to stretch his limbs, "Just one more gig and we've saved the world."

"Now that I look back, it has been an interesting ride," Zee agreed, "Apart from the chasing and everyone shooting at us and all that. I'll just be glad to get back a sense of normalcy."

"Who says it has to end?" Elwood asked, "I hope to keep the band goin' this time. And I was hopin' you'd still stay with us, Zee. After all, you are Jake's real brother and all that."

"Well, maybe," Zee looked like he was seriously on the fence with joining the Blues Brothers full time, "It's just that trouble seems to follow you guys everywhere, and I'm not really a trouble person."

"Nobody's perfect," Elwood shrugged. He stared across the clearing, tapping his fingers on the hood as he waited for Jake to return.

* * *

Jake whistled loudly as he approached the church he'd sensed. He shared Elwood's optimistic feeling about their quest. And it appeared they were going to walk home with the rest of the Relic before Satan's slugs could do anything else. He pushed the church's door open and walked inside…

And immediately felt reality abruptly constrict around him like a net. Excruciating pain ran through him. What was going on? All his senses had told him this was just an ordinary church. Unless….

It was then that the church disappeared into a net that entangled Jake. Somehow Hell had just tricked him. Footsteps approached from all directions, both human and non-human. "Well, well, if it isn't my least favorite Catholic darkie lover," came the arrogant voice of the Head Nazi.

"Don't you talk about black people like that you ape!" Jake snarled at him, "I'll let you know that black people gave America much of what…!"

His remaining retort was lost in a hideous shriek of pain as the Nazis zapped him with all kinds of Hellish weapons. Unable to go anywhere, Jake gritted his teeth and tried his best to ignore the cruel torture. But his wasn't the only one shrieking. Looking around he saw demons roosting in the trees around them, cheering on the torture. As well as numerous Caucasian Provinces members, somehow now teleported here to Virginia. The crowds parted as Camille walked forward towards him, her pet hellhounds growling at her feet. "So, we meet against Jake," she greeted him coolly, "You should have know that we would have caught up with you in the end."

She kicked him in disgust. Jake sucked in a deep breath against the pain. He felt remarkably like Aslan sacrificing himself to the White Witch at the moment. "You can kill me if you want, honey cakes," he told her more defiantly than he actually felt, "But you will not stop us from stopping you. Elwood will…"

"Oh yes, your dear brother," the Head Nazi yawned in boredom, "Well, we've taken the liberty of making sure he is dealt with by those in this world looking for him. Then once they get the thrill of capturing him, we'll destroy him once and for all."

A loud cheer rose up from the Caucasian Provinces legions. "They're not holy ambassadors!" Jake cried out to them, "They're for the other side, you idiots!"

The three hellhounds advanced toward him, their growls increasing. "This will be slow and painful, Jake," Camille told him darkly, "It's time you suffer the way I suffered when you walked out on me. Boys, you get the first shot at him."

She snapped her fingers, and the hellhounds leapt toward Jake.

* * *

"What's takin' him so long?" Elwood asked out loud, staring at his watch, "The way Jake can move now that he's an angel, he shoulda been back by now."

"Maybe he just got lost?" Cabel suggested helpfully.

"When he says he's hardwired to every church in the country?" Mack shrugged, unsure.

"It's probably nothin'," Elwood tried to rationalize, "He's probably takin' his time on this one."

"I don't know about that," Zee was now pacing nervously in circles, "I'd have to agree that something's happened."

"Not to Jake," Elwood shook his head, "He's too smart for that."

But it was at this moment that he suddenly felt a panic rush inside, as if Jake was telling him that he was in some kind of trouble. Before he could say anything about this, though, there was the sound of thousands of guns being cocked. Elwood looked up in shock to see they were surrounded by what seemed like thousands of police, FBI, and army personnel. The same ones they'd seemed to have left behind in California the previous night. "All right, Elwood," came Agent Orange's voice over a loudspeaker, "Hands in the air where we can see them. There's no way out of this one."

Elwood reluctantly put his arms up and gestured for his band mates to do the same. Orange was right this time. Without Jake, they were out of luck.


	25. Under Siege

"Hi again folks, it's me, good old Burton Mercer, live from the J. Edgar Hoover National Penitentiary near our nation's capital," the gubernatorial candidate jovially announced into his new camera, "As you can see, I have just apprehended the Blues Brothers after a long and fruitful chase, and once we extradite them back to Illinois, rest assured I'll have them prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, unlike that baboon Haroldson, who'd probably let them all walk."

"Haroldson's a good man," Mack spoke up form inside the narrow cell he and the other Brothers who'd been captured had been imprisoned in, "He opens up loads of jobs."

"Pay no attention to him, folks, he's a low-life con," Mercer told the viewers.

"I don't know these guys," Zee pleaded for what had to be the fifth time since they'd been caught, "I was just with them. And I deserve a phone call!"

"So on Election Day," Mercer continued ignoring him, "Cast your vote for a proven leader. Give old Burton Mercer his shot at the governor's office. It'll bring good results."

Elwood shook his head at the grandstanding outside the cell. "It's like we're live from Al Capone's vault," he confided in everyone. The room was just big enough for all of them, and Elwood could frankly see no way they could escape from it at the moment, especially since they were in the maximum security wing of the prison (Cabel, who'd just barely managed to fend off an attack by his evil counterpart during the actual arrest, had been confined to the prison's psychiatric ward for further evaluation). Worse, the Relic had been taken off them after they'd been arrested and put somewhere into storage. After seeing how huge the prison was when they arrived, Elwood could only guess how many boxes they'd have to root through to find it if they did get out. If only Jake hadn't gotten lost and hurt…

Footsteps echoed up the hall. "Mercer, stand aside, time to turn the juveniles over to their new guardians," Marvin announced loudly.

"And it's about damn time, too," came a voice that Elwood recognized as being inebriated immediately.

"Don't you worry, Jack, Buster's in one piece," Mercer reassured him. Elwood's first impression of Buster's natural father once the cell door opened was not a positive one; he could tell right away the man had consumed at least five beers over the last day, and there was a wild, angry look in his eye that could only mean violence was on the way. "Come here, Buster, we're going," he gestured to his son. Buster turned pale at the sight of him and cowered underneath the bunks. "I said COME ON!" Jack stormed toward him and grabbed his arm, "You can't be with these filthy people anymore!"

Elwood instinctively grabbed the man's arm. "You ain't takin' him!" he roared, "I ain't lettin' him go with no drunken loser when…!"

Marvin whacked the musician over the head with his rifle. "You had your day in the sun, Blues, but now playtime's over," the guard laughed at him mockingly. He grabbed hold of an equally terrified Katrina and hauled her out of the cell. "Not so rough!" Elwood shouted after him, "They're only kids!"

"So where's my kid then, Elwood?" Tony Danson stuck his head in the cell door, "Why wasn't Keith with you when they caught you?"

"He went out to walk the dog," Elwood told him.

"MY dog, you mean!" an equally aggravated Suntzman was the latest figure to appear in the door, "I'm pressing cruelty to animal charges against you, Blues!"

"You're the one who should be charged!" Elwood protested.

"OK, OK, I think we've heard enough; guys, let's get a move on," Mercer waved everyone out of the cell, "Jack, take your son and just sign out the paperwork at the desk; you'll be free to go back to your life after that."

"No, don't take me, Elwood!" Buster clawed desperately toward his father figure as his natural father dragged him out the door like an old rug. Elwood ran after him, but found his path blocked by a growling Ness. "That's right, Ness, Mr. Blues isn't going anywhere," Mercer stroked his pet on the head, "And we're going to stay right here to make sure."

"What about Keith?" Tony demanded the Department of Corrections chairman, "I want to find out where he's stashed him."

"Don't you worry, Tony, once we get Elwood into interrogation, we'll get everything we need out of him," Mercer reassured him, "Why don't you go wait in the lobby until we get the transfer papers all ready?"

Tony gave him a strange look, but walked off. Mercer locked the cell back up and settled down into a chair immediately outside the cell. The only sounds in the cellblock were the sounds of Buster screaming as he was led away. For only the second time in his life, Elwood found himself in tears. "Why'd this have to happen to him?" he asked his remaining cellmates, "He don't deserve to end up with a jerk like that! The lug's probably gonna beat him to death before it's all done."

"Elwood, we did our best," Mack put a hand on his shoulder, "Sometimes you just can't win. Why don't you sit down?"

Before Elwood could answer, more footsteps approached the cell. "Say Burt, can I have a word with you in private?" Suntzman asked his colleague.

"Sure Jim, just let me check up here," Mercer glanced into the cell for five seconds, then closed the viewing hole and walked up the hall. Elwood could still hear their voices, though, as the corridor was perfect for echoes. "So you didn't ask him about Jake?" Suntzman sounded very nervous.

"Why? Jim, you know Jake's dead," Mercer almost laughed.

"But I swear it was Jake I saw last night!" Suntzman insisted vehemently, "That was definitely Joliet Jake Blues who confronted me and blew fog in our faces!"

"So what the big deal, Jim? We just arrest…"

"BECAUSE I KILLED JAKE MYSELF; HE CAN'T BE ALIVE!" Suntzman hissed loudly.

"SHHHH!" Mercer whispered at an equally high pitch. After a brief pause, he added, "You sure?"

"Burt, remember Alvy Riley?"

"Riley, oh yeah, midlevel D.O.C. bureaucrat, was going to go public with our use of convicts for under-the-table state projects, so what?"

"Riley knew we were after him after he discovered we were essentially using the state's prisoners as slave laborers," Suntzman said breathlessly, "Just before we took him out, he came to Jake and told him everything."

"And how did you know it was Jake?"

"I didn't at first, until I cross-referenced the release dates of everyone on the cellblock I learned he'd gone to," Suntzman explained, "I reasoned that he was going to tell the guy who was going to be released first after his visit, and that happened to be Jake, so once I traced down his location after he got out, I followed him and ran him over with a tractor trailer—twice, to make sure."

Mercer whistled loudly. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Jim?" he asked.

"Because I was sure he was dead when I examined the body; I thought it was over with," Suntzman was even more nervous now, "I even chained weights to the body and dumped it in the middle of Lake Michigan to make sure. But that was definitely Jake I saw last night and in Vegas! If he is alive, and he told Elwood what Riley told him, we could both go down for life!"

"Jim, Jim, that's no guarantee Elwood knows even if Jake is alive," Mercer tried to reassure him, "If it is, we'll just make sure…"

Elwood didn't have the heart to listen in on more. He stumbled back to the bunk and sat down on the lower one. "Suntzman murdered Jake," he said softly.

"What?" Zee was shocked, "Your warden…?"

"Murdered him in cold blood," Elwood was too stunned to look up. He'd never bothered to ask Jake how he'd died.

"Which means we're liable to be next on his hit list," Mack, who'd also been listening in on the conversation with Elwood, looked quite grim, "I wouldn't be surprised if we have an 'accident' while they extradite us back to Illinois."

"Which also means we've got to get out of here now," Zee ran to the door and yanked on the handle. "Hey you guys, let me out of here now!" he yelled to anyone who cared to listen.

"Save your strength," Mack told him, "They're not letting us out of here."

Elwood nodded slowly in agreement. And from what he could see out the blurred window, there were guards at every station outside in the yard. They needed Jake now more than ever, but he had a feeling Jake wouldn't be coming this time.

* * *

Elwood had no way of knowing at that moment in time that he was being watched in the woods where he'd been captured. Ilvania was holding up an image of him from his holograph for all the Caucasian Province members to see. "There lays our target," he was informing them all, "Tonight, we storm the prison and kill these hell fiends once and for all."

The droning of a sawglider caught his attention. "And reinforcements are on the way," he announced as Voodshtap landed in the clearing, carrying a pair of jars. "Mice?" Armbrister asked, staring in at them.

"So they'd seem," Voodshtap opened the jars and emptied their contents on the ground, "But in actuality, their holy emissaries like ourselves, and they'll serve well as our first wave. Pastor, use your powers on them if you please."

Pastor Bedford, who was now looking less and less human due to Mongor's continued occupation of his body, stepped forward and fired blasts of energy from his eyes at the mice, who immediately reformed into the Russians and militants that had been chased after the Blues Brothers the last time they'd been out of prison. "What happened?" the Head Russian asked, looking around, "We'd entered the hall, and then…"

"That is all past," Voodshtap put an arm around him, "The person who did that to you is no more—I made sure of that personally. Now you can help all of us catch the Blues Brothers."

"Great," the Head Militant pumped his fists in delight, "Where are they?"

"In a prison we'll be storming once the sun goes down," Alderman Alderman told him, "So wait for our friends here to pass around the weapons, and we'll be ready to roll."

Both the Russians and militants cheered loudly. The two H.E.R.E.T.I.Cs walked away into the clearing where Camille and the Nazis were watching everything. "Superior numbers will insure our victory," Ilvania assured them.

"And best yet," Camille smiled wryly, "Jake can't stop us."

* * *

Jake was crawling weakly through the woods a few miles away. Severe pain was cutting through him—but that was to be expected after he had been chewed up by Hellish dogs and shot with every evil weapon in the book. He had been left barely alive when they'd stopped torturing him. There was, the Head Nazi had informed him before they'd all walked away, a church about fifteen miles to the south, but they doubted that he'd be able to reach it in his condition.

Jake was determined to make it, though. If only for the sake of Elwood and the other band members. He'd heard very clearly the plan to assault the prison and kill them all. He couldn't let that happen, not when they'd come so far.

But he needed a recharge in order to help them now. And it was proving difficult to move at all. Every step forward was a small victory in and of itself. And time was starting to run out.

"Can't give up," he thought defiantly to himself, "Must go on. Can't let Hell win."

With another groan of pain he collapsed onto the forest floor. As optimistic as he was trying to spin it, he had to admit it looked bad. They had inflicted significant damage to him, and if his injuries weren't treated soon, he could die all over again.

"If only they hadn't caught Elwood," he thought dismally, "He could come…"

Just then there was the roar of motorcycle engines coming toward him. He crawled up into a ball as the glare of headlights surrounded him. "Don't try me!" he warned everyone, "I'm not in a forgiving mood right now! I'll…!"

"Relax, Jake," a familiar figure with long hair and a beard climbed off his bike, "It looks like you could use a little help."

* * *

"State your name again please?" the guard at the prison gate asked.

"Name's Bob Lubbock, I'm Elwood Blues's third cousin, I'd like to have a word with him while he's here," Bob told him. He had no idea how he'd ended up going from California to Virginia overnight, but at least he was close to the Blues Brothers again—it had been all over the local news when they'd eaten at lunch—and this time he was going to succeed in extracted from them what they owed him. The plan had been to pose as relatives, get custody of them, and drive them out to the middle of nowhere and shoot them in the head. As the Black Diamond Riders had prison records and could be easily identified, he and the Good Old Boys had agreed to actually pick them up.

The guard picked up his phone and called someone inside the prison. "Okay, you can go on in," he told Bob, "Go to the waiting room, and someone will handle it from there."

"Gotcha," Bob gestured for Tucker to drive through the now opening gate. "That was easy," the country singer admitted as he pulled into a Visitor parking space.

"I don't know if they'll believe we're his cousins," one of the Good Old Boys voiced concern.

"After all they've done, Lester, they'll be glad to have them off their hands," Tucker reasoned with him, "They'll give them to us with no questions asked."

"They all entered the prison's waiting room. "We're here to see the Blues Brothers, the guy out front cleared us," Bob told the receptionist.

"Sorry, no one can see the Blues Brothers right now," she told them, "They're confined to solitary in the maximum security wing until further notice. Why don't you have a seat, and we'll get to you as soon as possible."

"Sure, why not?" Tucker shrugged in resignation, plopping down on a sofa, "After all, it ain't like they're going nowhere."

* * *

Elwood paced nervously around the cell. He'd heard rumors all throughout the day that their transfer papers to Joliet were nearly done. He agreed with Mack's assessment that they were probably dead ducks if they were moved, and that Suntzman and Mercer would arrange to have them killed off along the way. He felt like he was on deathwatch like so many others he'd known in Joliet over the years had been.

The silence of the maximum wing was broken only by sound of Mercer snoring outside. The Department of Corrections chairman had taken his job of personally guarding them so seriously that he—and Ness, from the sound of the dog's even breathing—had fallen asleep doing it. Indeed, Mercer had been so convinced the Brothers weren't getting away on his watch that he'd cancelled the regular guard patrols through the wing, leaving it deserted for much of the day. While this would be in favor of any break attempts, Elwood couldn't see getting past the other guards. It looked so hopeless for them.

And then he heard the sound of something bumping around in the air ducts in the walls. "You guys hear that?" he asked his cellmates.

"Hear what?" Zee had been staring blankly at the ground for the last four hours.

"Hear that," Mack had also heard it. The former bartender put his ear to the wall. "Sounds like it's coming up from below us," he mused.

And then there came a familiar bark from the wall. "Armstrong?" Elwood called out. More barking came back.

"How'd he get in here?" Zee rose to his feet.

"Who cares, as long as he helps get us out," Elwood ran to the cell door and pounded on the peephole until it burst open. Mercer snorted outside but didn't wake up. From his vantage point, Elwood could see the dog's nose peeking out of the vent against the wall—and the cell keys hanging limply in Mercer's hands. "Good boy Armstrong, pop the grate," he softly instructed him.

Armstrong's nose disappeared—and the grate shook moments later. "That's what I call using your head," Mack commented. With another crack the grate came crashing off the vent. Again, Mercer snorted loudly but remained asleep, as did Ness. Armstrong trotted onto the prison block. "Good boy, now go get the keys," Elwood pointed at them.

Armstrong walked over and took the keys in his teeth. He started tugging them away, but Mercer pulled them back in his sleep with a loud snore. The dog kept pulling to no avail. "Not now, Ness," the Department of Corrections chairman said sleepily.

"Any ideas?" Zee asked Elwood. Elwood thought it over for a minute, then snapped his fingers in Armstrong's direction and made a licking gesture. Armstrong looked at him quizzically. "His hand," Elwood whispered, "Lick him and make him drop them."

After a minute of confusion, Armstrong got it and licked away at Mercer's hand. "Cut it out Ness," Mercer chuckled in his sleep. Then he dropped the keys with a loud rattle. The three prisoners held their breath in case he woke up, but all was quite on the cellblock. Elwood squeezed his hand out the peephole. "Great work, now let me have the keys," he whispered to the dog. Armstrong picked them up and leaped up on his hind legs. Elwood grabbed them and maneuvered his arm toward the lock. He started sticking the keys in randomly. The door opened on the fifth key. Elwood slowly opened it. And waved for Zee and Mack to follow him outside. "Ya get an extra snack for this," he told Armstrong, scratching his ears.

"I've got an idea," Mack pointed at Mercer and Ness. The bartender took hold of the blanket Ness was sleeping on and dragged it and the dog into the cell. Seeing the plan, Elwood and Zee helped him carefully pick up Mercer—chair and all—and carry him in after his pet. Elwood swung the door shut and locked Mercer in. His nemesis remained soundly asleep. "Some guard he makes," Zee remarked sarcastically.

Elwood walked toward the open vent. "Kid, you down there?" he called down.

"Yep Elwood," came Keith's voice, "I'm down in the laundry room."

"How'd ya get in here?'

"The same way they always do in the movies; in the back of the prison laundry truck," Keith called up, "Come on down; I've found an old tunnel down here that might lead out."

Just then the sound of loud explosions rocked the air. Mercer woke up with a start. "Who, what, where, why?" he yelled loudly. Then he started out the peephole. "Elwood, what are you doing out there?" he asked.

"Maybe you should ask what you're doing in there?" Zee told him. Mercer took a look around the cell and immediately ran for the door and started shaking the bars frantically. "Elwood, let me out!" he screeched like a parakeet, "You can't do this to me!"

"All guards report to your stations. This facility is under attack," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. Sirens rang out through the prison, as the sound of footsteps rushing up and down stairs filled the air. "Time to split," Elwood rushed for the vent and slid down it like a slide. He landed with a thump in a pile of laundry. "Quick thinkin' kid," he commended Keith, who was standing by the door.

"When I saw them taking you all away, I had to do something," Keith told him, "We hitched a ride into town and jumped…are those sounds normal?"

Zee and Armstrong slid down the vent after Elwood. "I just saw something flying outside the window," the former said, "Something that looked like a cross between a goat and a psychotic blue jay."

"Demons," Elwood realized, "They're after us." He glanced up the shaft. "Mack, better get a move on."

"I can't," Mack called down, "The shaft's too small!"

"It was then the door burst open and dozens of heavily armed guards burst in. "I knew I heard something strange going on in here!" the leader of them shouted, raising his weapon, "Shoot them!"


	26. Prison Break II

It was mere seconds before the guards all fired that something came abruptly tunneling up through the floor. "Now, now, we can't have that," a rejuvenated Jake said. He formed a large energy bubble around his associates that deflected all the bullets away.

"Well it's about time you got here," Zee scolded his natural brother as he blew out another sleeping cloud and put all the guards to sleep.

"I had to make a little detour; I'll explain later," Jake said, disengaging the bubble, "Right now, we need to get the relic and get the hell out of here. If you haven't noticed, they're attacking away at us right now."

"You sure you're all right, Jake?" Elwood asked him as they ran out the door, "I got a feelin' in my gut that…"

"I was hoping you could feel that," Jake told him, "Yeah, I was trying to call you over. Luckily an old friend stopped by, and he brought some new friends of his own that might solve our earthly security problems. With his help I was able to get recharged, so we're good for the next day or so."

"I hope so," Elwood could hear several of the explosions outside getting louder. He knew the quicker they got out of the prison, the better. "I should tell you Jake, they took Buster. His dad's probably gonna kill him if we can't catch up with him."

"Leave it to me," Jake waved his hand at an electronically sealed door to unlock it, "Mr. Lancaster shall face the music for his sins against his son when the time comes."

* * *

"What did you say attacked you?" Agent Orange yelled over his radio to a fellow agent as he ran toward the prison roof, weapons ready.

"It was so hideous I can't really describe it!" the agent gasped, "They're everywhere, sir, I don't know if we can stop them!"

"I think we can stop them!" an agent cut in, "I've shot four of them dead already. Their firepower's incredible, but a good shot should take them out."

"I hope so," Orange climbed out on the roof—and had to immediately duck to avoid getting hit with a plague spore that exploded nearby, sending the guards in its vicinity choking to death. "Oh my God," he gasped, seeing the night sky was filled with demons, which dove toward roofs and attacked guards and agents at will. Orange also noticed the legions of what appeared to be militia marching inexorably toward the prison, firing weapons he'd never seen before.

"Can you believe it?" General Storrs joined him, "They seem to be breathing fire, one of my men told me! Why the hell is this happening?"

"I have no damn idea, but we're going to put a stop to it," Agent Orange noticed a demon swooping down toward him. He cocked his rifle and blew it out of the sky. "Piece of cake," he said out loud.

"Aim at their forward units!" General Storrs ordered several of his men that were wheeling a cannon out onto the roof, "We disable them, we can break up the rest of them! Where the hell's Mercer! That fat oaf should be up here! "

Down below, the Caucasian Provinces fired away with every demonic weapon they had. The Russians and militants, despite their frontline positions in the attack, were still a bit rusty after having spent such a long period of time as mice and were missing their targets. Despite their advantage with weapons, the authorities manning the prison had the high ground and the advantage, and Caucasian Provinces members were falling dead all over the place. "Come on, all of you!" Alderman Alderman tried to rally the forces that were starting to fall back a bit, "You're Christ's soldiers of glory! Act like it! Forward!"

He picked up a plague spore and held it dramatically over his head to set a strong example—and was immediately hit with a fatal spray of bullets. "You heard the man, charge!" Lieutenant Armbrister led several squads forward over the alderman's body toward the prison's main gate, "The will of our father in heaven shall be done!"

* * *

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, here we are," Jake kicked in the door to the evidence room. The first thing Elwood noticed was that the shelves of evidence stretch into the distance for what seemed like miles. "Uh, I hope they're all in alphabetical order," he commented.

"No need," Jake sprung through the air about five rows down and snatched a long thin box off the shelf. Springing back, he tore it open and extracted the relic. "Good, intact," he nodded. He handed it to Mack. "McTier, take this out of here and make sure nothing happens to it," he instructed him, "The rest of you go out with him through that hole in the laundry room. Meet us outside the front gate in ten minutes. You find our new bodyguards there. Elwood, come with me, we've got some business here still, I believe."

He took his brother's hand and raced up the hall. Elwood felt a strange sensation creeping through his veins. "Say do you feel…?" he started to ask.

"I've taken the liberty of making us invisible," Jake told him, "At least until we reach our destination. Ah, here we are now."

They'd reached the psychiatric ward. Jake yanked the card key lock off the cell in front of them and threw the door open. "Cab, we're getting out of here, let's get a move on," he told Curtis's illegitimate son.

"I knew you were coming," Cabel rose to his feet. He'd apparently been meditating in the corner. "I was getting the feeling that you'd…"

Suddenly something brushed by Jake and Elwood. Evil Cabel had by now seriously devolved, as Elwood noticed he was running on his hands and legs like a carnivore, and he was foaming at the mouth. He took one look at his good self and leaped upon him, growling like an animal. Electricity zapped all around the room. Elwood started forward to try and help Good Cabel, but Jake held him back. "You can't interfere," he told him, "He must win on his own."

Elwood didn't think Cabel's good side had too much of a chance given the circumstances, but to his amazement Good Cabel rolled over and clamped down on Evil Cabel's throat. Howling, the evil side started turning into mist, which engulfed the good side. Reunited again, Cabel tumbled backwards. "What happened?" he asked out loud, "Where am I?"

"Your good side won out," Jake helped him up, "Congratulations Cab, I knew you could banish the darkness within."

"Who are you?" Cabel stared at him, "And where the hell am I?"

"They always get amnesia after this," Jake told a confused Elwood, "It's pretty much habitual to…excuse me a minute."

Lieutenant Eliozar had entered the room. "Commander, are you all right?" she asked the still puzzled Cabel.

"He's just fine," Jake Force-waved her, "Since you're a nice woman deep down, I'd advise you to wait until this big battle blows over, then go somewhere other than Chicago and find a more fitting line of work."

Eliozar nodded and walked out the door. "One down, one to go," Jake took both Elwood and Cabel's hands and led them at breakneck speed back through the prison's corridors. He stopped in the middle of one hall and pressed his hand to the wall. Elwood could see an ugly-looking social worker dragging a tearful Katrina toward the door. The girl was resisting with all her strength, and Elwood clearly heard the social worker mouth an obscenity at her. "That's why I always hated social workers," Jake muttered darkly, "They never care about the kids they're supposed to take care of. Well, anyway…"

He shoved the wall down and stormed up to the social worker. "Unhand that girl now!" he ordered.

"Are you the father?" the social worker demanded.

"No."

"Then shut up," the social worker turned to leave with Katrina. Jake spun him back around and head-butted him. "You OK there, angel?" he asked, scooping Katrina up in his arms.

"I thought you weren't coming back!" Katrina sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hey, when you come from where I do, you always come back, honey," Jake said softly, hugging her close. Elwood saw a look of genuine paternalism in his brother's eyes as he comforted the girl. Maybe death had changed Jake's previously lethargic feeling toward youngsters after all.

"You'll pay for that you dirty son of a…!" the social worker charged at him. Jake took a deep breath and froze him in a large block of ice, much as he had with Mrs. Murphy. "You need to chill out, pal," he told him.

"JAKE?" shrieked a voice from the hole in the wall. Suntzman had showed up on the scene and had turned white at the sight of Jake. "Y-Y-Y-You can't be real!" he stammered.

"You killed him!" Elwood pointed an accusing finger at the warden, "You slaughtered him in cold blood!"

"I swear, it's not…I didn't…. Marvin, kill him again!" a frantic Suntzman shouted. The head guard cocked his rifle and fired at Jake, who smothered Katrina on the ground as the bullets ricocheted off him. Cabel rushed at Marvin and disarmed him in a flash. "Cut it out!" he ordered, "You endangering…!"

The door to the room was kicked down. Lieutenant Armbrister strode in, armed to the teeth. "So you're the Blues Brothers," he retorted to the group before him, "I've been waiting for you for a long time!"

He cocked a heavy machine gun. "Forget Jake, shoot that baboon!" Suntzman ordered Marvin, "The Blues Brothers are ours!"

"You can't harm me," Armbrister folded his arms across his chest defiantly, "I have holy protection. Give me your best shot!"

Marvin fired at Armbrister…who immediately keeled over dead. "Great shot," Suntzman commended him, "Now take out…where'd they go?"

Jake had in fact made himself and the other Brothers invisible again. They rushed down the stairs toward the courtyard, pushing their way past guards and the Russians and militants, who had also breached the prison. "The witch is dead," Jake informed a shocked Elwood, "And Hell knows they be great forces for their cause."

It was pure pandemonium in the courtyard. Guards and agents fired at Caucasians Provinces members and demons that were attacking from all directions. Clutching everyone close, Jake leaped high in the air over the wall and landed in the prison parking lot, punching out a demon that lunged at them when they landed. "No time to go for the Bluesmobile," he announced, "The faster we get out of here the better; we're not invisible to these demons."

"But Jake, what could we possibly use to…?" Elwood's gaze fell upon the Good Old Boys' Winnebago. "On second thought, I think I know what we could use," he said.

He rushed to the Winnebago and pushed the open the door, which Tucker had carelessly forgotten to lock. "I don't think we should be doing this," Cabel told him as he climbed in after him, "Unless this is our car. Is it?"

"You don't know?" Katrina chided him.

"He's just had a mental restart, sweetheart, he's going to be a bit out of the loop again for a while," Jake told her.

"Well, even if it's not our car, we're not going anywhere," Cabel continued, glancing at the driver's seat, "There's no key."

"No problem here," Elwood had started plenty of keyless cars in his life. He crawled down under the dashboard, broke open the bottom hatch, grabbed two wires, and held them together. With a loud cracking of electricity, the Winnebago roared to life. Elwood wrapped the wires together and climbed up onto the driver's seat. "Let's roll," he announced, flooring it. The Winnebago careened across the parking lot, running over a pair of demons that had jumped in its path. Up in the waiting room, Tucker jerked upright. "That's my car engine!" he gasped, "Someone's takin' it!"

He and Bob rushed to the window to see the Winnebago zooming toward the main gate. "Hey you, get back here!" Bob yelled out the window at it.

"Damn!" Tucker kicked a sofa in disgust, "And we can't call the bikers to tell them to be on the lookout for them!"

Back in side the Winnebago, Elwood accelerated toward the main gate. The guards stationed there were too busy firing at other targets to stop the Winnebago as it crashed through the gates and barreled up the road away from the prison. "Stop here," Jake instructed him once they'd turned a corner. He then teleported outside the car. Elwood noticed the rest of his party crouching behind some bushes. He rolled down the window. "Anyone need a lift?" he called out.

Everyone scurried for the Winnebago. "Say Elwood, you won't believe who came back and who he's got," Zee told him.

A familiar bearded figure stepped out of the bushes. "Rock?" Elwood was amazed to see the biker again.

"Yep," Rocky shook his hand, "When word got out that you were in trouble, I had to come. And I've got a new gang now, and they've agreed to work as security enforcers for you. Guys, come on over here and meet Elwood Blues."

With a rev of engines, out of the bushes drove a motorcycle gang of…

"DISCO DANCERS?" Elwood's jaw dropped, "You found a gang of disco dancers?"

"Yo bro, we be better than we look, check it slick?" asked the apparent leader of the group, a man with a large Afro and purple-feathered suit.

"Well here's your chance to prove it," Rocky pointed up the road. More familiar motorcycles were approaching. "There's Topton!" yelled Mad Dog, "Run him down!"

The Black Diamond Riders accelerated forward. "Come bros," the leader of the disco bikers told his gang, "Let's show these blues singers we're up to the challenge."

The disco bikers all raised their arms in the air like John Travolta and sped off to meet the evil bikers. In quick succession they clotheslined the Black Diamond Riders off their bikes. Elwood nodded in approval. "Looks good to me," he told Rocky, "Where'd you find 'em?"

"East St. Louis," Rocky told them, "They've the Gibbstown Disco Gang, and…"

"I've heard of them," Mack plopped down in the front passenger seat, "Used to be a disco band; been cruising around the country waiting for disco to return."

Jake teleported back into the Winnebago. "I put up a wall; it'll hold for a about a half hour," he informed the others. Elwood glanced out the window to see a swarm of demons flying toward them crash into an invisible barrier. "Still gotta get Buster," he said as he slowly started forward, the Gibbstown Disco Gang falling into a protective circle around the Winnebago. The still dismounted Black Diamond Riders scattered for cover as the caravan passed them at a high rate of speed.

Back inside the prison, the battle was calming down now that the demons were all trying to force their way through the barrier Jake had set up. Without aerial support, the authorities were quickly surrounding the Caucasian Provinces. A few, including the Russians and militants, just managed to escape out the front gate before the net was closed. The rest were taken into custody and disarmed. Agent Orange supervised the transfer of the two hundred or so new prisoners for the facility. "What the hell were you thinking, attacking a major prison like that?" he ordered one of them.

"I don't have to tell you anything," the Caucasian Province member told him roughly. Orange shoved him into a cell and locked the door. The sound of a door being violently shaken echoed throughout the maximum security wing. "HEELLLLLLLPPP!" Mercer was screeching like a hawk as he shook the bars of the cell he was locked in, "Orange, get me out of here!"

Orange rolled his eyes. "Mercer you idiot, don't tell me you let the Blues Brothers escape?" he shouted at the Department of Corrections chairman.

"Hey go easy on me, Orange, nobody's perfect!" Mercer defended himself, "Mind sliding me the keys?"

Orange ignored him. "McMaster, call all local agencies!" he ordered a fellow agent, "Tell them the Blues Brothers are on the loose again!"


	27. Back into Hiding

Elwood gripped the wheel tight. Jake was pushing the Winnebago at a high rate of speed down the Virginia highways. The angel was tuning in on Buster—some higher function only angels had, he'd tried to explain. Somehow Jake was also providing their bodyguards with enough speed to keep up with them. Although Elwood was used to this by now, it amazed him to see Jake make them miss cars on the road at the last second. He prayed Buster's life wasn't in peril at the moment.

It was now that Jake braked everything to a stop. "Over there," he pointed to a blue Chevy parked on the side of the road, "I can tell he's up to…"

Elwood was out of the Winnebago and striding across the highway before his brother could finish. For him, this was personal. He could already hear Buster screaming in pain. He yanked open the driver's side door. "Get your filthy repugnant hands off that kid right now!" he yelled.

Jack spun around. He'd clearly had even more drinks since he'd left the prison. "You're not supposed to be here!" he yelled slurrily, "You belong back in…!"

Elwood hauled him out of the car and decked him hard. "Buster's my responsibility from now on!" he yelled, hitting him again, "You ain't gonna hurt him no more!"

Jack drew a knife and took a hard slash at Elwood. "Actually, you're not going to bother me anymore!" he snarled.

The knife was abruptly jerked out of his hand by an invisible force. Jake caught it in midair and crushed it. He then made a pulling gesture toward Jack, who was pulled through the air toward the angel. Jake took hold of the man's collar. "You know, where I come from nowadays, beating up one's own child is considered one of the worst offenses a person can commit," he said coldly.

"Break his filthy neck, Jake," Elwood urged him on.

"Can't do it, Elwood," Jake shook his head, "Number one rule for field operations is never take the life of a living being no matter how much they might deserve it. I can, however, do this."

Without touching Jack, he spun him around and bent him over. Then he caused the car's hood to pop open, whacking the drunk in the face. As a clincher, he levitated the engine out of the car and dropped it on his head. Jack groaned and collapsed to the ground. Satisfied, Jake walked over to his brother, who was embracing a heavily struck Buster. "Hey kid, over here for a minute," he told Buster, who ran into his arms. Jake touched the boy's face, and immediately all his injuries were healed. "Thank you," Buster told him with great gratitude. Then he ran back to Elwood. "I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to me," he said between tears of joy.

"You know it," Elwood lifted him up in the air.

The sound of a cell phone ringing filled the air. Jake pulled it out of his pocket. "Foley, it's about time you called up," he said to his heavenly contact, "I almost got killed again down here. You did? That's great, Foley, I'll make sure they commend you for this. Well, if you'll be there, I'm sure we could talk it over. I think…"

"Uh, Jake," Elwood tugged his arm. Jack was slowly getting back up. He howled in rage and lunged toward them…

And was grabbed by the head disco biker. "Yo slick, you don't go touchin' these cats," he told him, walloping him with a lead pipe and knocking him out again.

"Nice one, Arhtur T," Jake shook his hand, "You're earning this position. Yeah, Foley, just our earthly contacts. Right, see you there."

"Good news?" Elwood inquired as he hung up.

"Yep, Foley was able to extract everyone close to us the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s were holding prisoner," Jake informed him, "We'll meet them at our next rest stop—the Eisenhower Farm in Gettysburg."

"But ain't that a public national site?" Elwood pointed out, "Tourists'll be all over the joint."

"The guy running it now was one of the orphans," Jake said, "He's had it closed for the next couple of days."

"And it's nice and out in the middle of nowhere," one of the disco bikers spoke up, "We'll be able to keep a good watch."

"Let's get movin' then," Elwood scooped Buster up and walked back into the Winnebago. "Pal, you know how to get from wherever here is to Gettysburg?" he asked Keith.

"Hmm, let me check Mapquest here," Keith typed several things into his laptop, "OK, from here, Elwood, go right and head about a quarter of a mile to Interstate 95 and take that north into Maryland. I'll give you the rest when we get further up."

"Works for me," Elwood shifted into drive and drove off into the night, the Gibbstown Disco Gang maintaining their protective circle around the Winnebago.

* * *

"So you failed again?" the Devil snarled on the monitor at Zildohar back at the Sears Tower, "And lost our new slaves? You should know my patience is starting to dwindle! And now they almost have the Relic intact!"

"I assure you, Master Satan, I am learning from these mistakes," Zildrohar stammered apologetically, "I will need your help in protecting the last piece."

"You know I help no one," the Devil told him roughly, "Nonetheless, to keep Heaven from obtaining the Relic, I will reinforce it."

"I request thus the assistance of as many of the souls in the Ninth Circle as can be spared," Zildrohar told him.

"I will see what can be done," the Devil abruptly disappeared. Zildrohar slumped forward on the counter, petting his snake. How could the Blues Brothers be able to evade them so long, even when he'd already thrown half of Hell at them?

"Master Zildrohar," one of the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s popped his head into the lobby, "We need you for the beginning of the pit ceremony."

"Coming," Zildrohar took hold of his staff and rose up. At least the ritual would take his mind off other matters.

* * *

"…and so Topton managed to show up at the right time and get me to the church in time to recharge," Jake told Elwood. The Winnebago was cruising through the early morning up Route 15 toward southern Pennsylvania. Everyone apart from them was sound asleep, although this was a bit surprising considering the loud blaring disco music coming from the 8-tracks on the motorcycles surrounding them.

"I'm glad he came back," Elwood said, "It really meant a lot for him to get involved with us."

"I know," Jake nodded. "Here we go, Steinwehr Avenue, get off here and turn left," he instructed his brother. Elwood cranked down the window and whistled at Rocky and the disco bikers to follow him off the ramp. "This thing ain't quite got the Bluesmobile's power, but it's a reasonable enough highway drive," he commented, patting the Winnebago's stick shift.

The sky was just starting to brighten in the east when they turned into the driveway to the Eisenhower farm several miles down the road. Elwood took note of the many former Secret Service outposts positioned near the gates. They'd have much advance warning if the authorities were to come upon them. "There's Foley," Jake pointed toward the barn next to main house, "Pull over there."

Foley struck Elwood as a man who was essentially a blown-up version of Jake. Large, overweight, and with a wild shock of hair, the junior angel mobbed Jake the moment he stepped out of the Winnebago. "Hiya Jake!" he roared in a high-energy voice, squeezing Jake practically to death—again, "So glad we could finally work together on this!"

"So you're Foley?" Elwood shook his hand, "Any friend of Jake's friend of mi—ow!"

Foley was crushing him to now as well. "I model ever facet of my afterlife after Jake," the large junior angel told him as Elwood squirmed out of his grasp, "He took me under his wing, and we're been buddies, pals, amigos!"

He delivered the last few lines at a pitched shout, as if he wanted the whole world to know. "Nice guy you've got here, Jake," Elwood commented at him, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was your long-lost son."

"Don't I wish," Jake shrugged. Turning to his protégé, he asked, "So you got everyone the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s were holding prisoner out safely?"

"And no worse for wear," Foley told him, "They're inside with the rest of your group (Elwood noticed everyone else's cars parked inside the barn) and sleeping their first sweet dreams in a while. I also got the rest of the band together."

Two more figures appeared from the back of the barn. "Murph, Willie, welcome back," Elwood greeted them.

"Well, I suppose it's great to be back," Willie shrugged, looking more or less ambivalent, "Your big fat pal here," he gestured at Foley, "Swept into our place and told us it was a matter of life and death. I figured, what the hell, might as well go out and play one more concert before the end of the world."

"Although," Murphy added, "I don't know how we're going to do with two keyboardists and drums."

"We'll work it out, trust me," Jake patted him on the shoulder, "Ah, here's our contact."

"Good morning," announced a middle-aged African-American man with already graying hair, "James Lech, in case you don't remember me. I'm now the National Park Service representative in charge of the farm here. I've taken the liberty of locking everything down for the next few days. As far as the public knows, it's for routine repairs. The observation tower over the horizon there's closed down, so no one can look in. Just don't try and rearrange too many stuff or the tourists who come back may get suspicious. You can park you camper there in the barn with the other cars, no one'll see it there."

"Works for me," Elwood nodded. He climbed back inside and started guiding the Winnebago into the barn. There were low hushes as everyone woke up. "So we're there yet?" Mack asked sleepily.

"Yep," Elwood told him, "Three days in hiding. I'm guessin' breakfast's ready for all of us."

"Have to do one thing first," Keith reached for his laptop. He started typing out a message:

OCTOBER 30

YANKEE STADIUM, BRONX

BLUES BROTHERS RHYTHM AND BLUES REVIEW

ONE NIGHT ONLY

WITH A SPECIAL SURPRISE

BE THERE.


	28. Final Preparations

Agent Orange rushed into the garage of the federal prison, clutching a sheet of printer paper. "We just got confirmation from Yankee Stadium officials," he announced, "The Blues Brothers will indeed be playing before the game."

He was greeted by a loud snoring. Mercer was sound asleep again in a chair against the wall. Orange rolled his eyes and kicked the Department of Corrections chairman in the shin. "I swear she was eighteen, your honor!" Mercer yelled as he bolted upright. Noticing his associate standing over him, he asked, "Was that terribly important, Orange?"

"Mr. Mercer, he said the Blues Brothers are going to be in New York on the thirtieth," a disgusted Daniel rolled his eyes. He and Mount were standing underneath the car lift in the middle of the garage, on top of which the Bluesmobile was being retooled by mechanics. "How much longer is it going to take?" Mount called up.

"Give us a few more minutes, it's almost ready," called down the lead mechanic.

"Hey guys," Suntzman walked into the garage carrying along a still heavily inebriated Jack, "Lancaster here was attacked by the Blues Brothers after he left. They took his son again."

"Well, that shoots holes in that nun's theory," General Storrs mused, "Good work, warden, now we've got more charges against them.

"Including vehicular theft," Marvin added, "We received complaints by some guys who said they had their camper stolen by them after they escaped last night."

"Did you get any license plates?" Agent Orange asked.

They did give us a general description of the Winnebago," Marvin nodded.

"All done," called down the lead mechanic. There was a hissing as the car lift sank back to the floor. With a new paint job and sirens added, the Bluesmobile looked as good as new. Mercer ran a loving hand over it. "So what modifications did you make?" he inquired.

"We gave it a complete diagnostic overhaul," the lead mechanic explained, "New oil change, better brakes, new tires, the works. We also added a new more powerful engine. It's more fuel-efficient and should allow you to easily keep up with them no matter what they're driving. And we've put about five hundred pounds of nitrous oxide boosters under the rear hood. Just pull the cigarette lighter and you'll take off like a rocket."

"Beautiful, beautiful," Mercer swept his hand over the hood. "Isn't it poetic, Ness?" her asked his Doberman, "We're going to stop Elwood with his own car."

"All right, so here's our plan of action," General Storrs unrolled a large map on the Bluesmobile's roof, "We surround Yankee Stadium three hours before show time and block off all the exits. Orange, make arrangements with local law enforcement people and have them essentially block all roads out of the Bronx. We'll put sharpshooters all along the roof to take them out if they make a break for it…"

"Sharpshooters?" Tony Danson interceded from the back of the crowd. He was looking a little upset. "Do we really need sharpshooters? Keith's not a threat, you know. I can…"

"Mr. Danson, your son's joined with outlaws; by all accounts he's now one of them," Marvin told him shortly, "In our book, that makes him as much of a problem as Elwood. Now you'd said he'd been sneaking out late at night?"

"Yes, but he's not…," Tony tried to say, but Orange cut him off. "We'll put advance units down on the field level," the FBI agent continued with the plan, pointing to several rows on a close-up diagram of Yankee Stadium, "When they start singing the last song, we'll make a rush for the stage and see if we can take them without incident."

"Just be prepared for anything," Daniel warned him, "As you've seen, and as we know for fact, they can get out of tight corners with ridiculous ease."

"OK then, call the men and let's get this show back on the road," Mercer reached for the driver's side door. Mount grabbed his arm. "Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, your driving on this little trip has been less than encouraging," he told his boss, "We'll have to ask you to take the back seat."

"Damn!" Mercer grumbled, but he complied with Mount's wishes. Ness crawled onto the floor as Orange and Storrs climbed in with his boss. Daniel jumped into the driver's seat. Let's see if this baby's got more power under the hood," he said, turning the key in the ignition. The Bluesmobile's engine roared to life with incredible power. "Oh yeah," the Highway Patrol captain exclaimed, giving it several strong revs, "This is going to work wonderfully. Elwood's going to find he doesn't own the road anymore."

* * *

"Hold it up, hold it up," Clarence waved his arms around, bringing the band to a halt. They had been practicing for the last hour or so in the parlor of the Eisenhower farmhouse. "You guys in the horn section keep running over each other," the blues legend scolded them.

"Well he's out of cue!" Tom Malone and Tom Scott exclaimed simultaneously, pointing accusing fingers at each other.

"We're ALL out of cue," Clarence told them.

"Us too?" Cabel inquired.

"Nope, you singers are fine," Clarence reassured him, "Why don't you all take five for a while, and I'll work with the band." He then muttered under his breath, "And it's going to be one hell of an uphill climb at this rate."

"In that case, Clarence, why not have an extra hand assist you?" Curtis abruptly materialized out of thin air. Everyone who was holding an instrument dropped it in shock at his sudden appearance. "Say, what ever happened to usin' the doorbell, Curtis?" Elwood half-chided his father figure.

"C-C-Curtis?" Clarence stammered.

"Clarence," Curtis patted him on the shoulder, "Did Jake tell you I'd sent him?"

The dead bluesman's former partner was speechless. "And like Jake said," Curtis continued, putting an arm around him, "I'm sorry for walking out on you, Clarence. You were the best friend I ever had, and I took it for granted. So now, if you'll offer me an official apology, we can get this show on the road and get the band here ready to roll."

"S-S-Sure, Curtis," Clarence nodded weakly. "Like I said, go take a break," he informed the group's singers.

"Let's go, Armstrong, we'll go play fetch a little while," Elwood whistled at the dog. The two of them walked out the front door of the farmhouse. All was quiet and peaceful, with the only sound being the wind blowing through the fields, with their stalks glistening in the early evening sun. "Anyone come, Rock?" Elwood called to his buddy, stationed at the window of what had once been the Secret Service's central control building next to the barn.

"Nope, Elwood," Rocky called back, "Apparently our ruse worked."

He turned back to his radio. As the new leader of the Gibbstown Disco Gang, he'd volunteered to coordinate the security effort at the farm during what was to be their three days there, and was spending his time coordinating the rest of the disco bikers, who had manned the Secret Service booths all over the property, securing everything within a five mile radius of the farmhouse. The radios had been old and in disuse, but a few of Jake's tricks had restored them to normal. Jake had also sought out assistance from people he'd already knew lived in the area. He'd left for a stroll around noon and had returned an hour later saying that he'd made arrangements with several spirits of Civil War veterans still walking the battlefield. Hell's agents, he'd happily informed Elwood, would not bother them at all while they were there.

Speaking of Jake, he now exited the farmhouse, Katrina hoisted on his shoulder. "I know you always wanted to fly," he was telling her, "What do you say you and I go for a nice leisurely flight around the battlefield?"

"Won't that freak people out to see us in mid-air?" Katrina inquired.

"Not if we're invisible," Jake snapped his fingers. Nothing visible happened, but Elwood knew his brother and Katrina would now be invisible to any who'd look at them. "Just don't drop her, Jake," he told him.

"Since when have I deliberately injured anyone, Elwood?" Jake told him. He sprouted his wings and took off into the sunny sky, Katrina shouting in delight. "Boy, Jake really is starting to fall in love with her," came Foley's voice from behind Elwood. Elwood spun to see him looking up at his heavenly friend disappear into the clouds. "You folks just love poppin' outta nowhere, don't ya?" he asked Foley.

Foley didn't answer. "You know, Elwood, I was talking to Jake earlier while you were sleeping," he said, patting Armstrong on the head and magically producing a bone for him, "He says he'd be willing to give up eternal life for her."

"Can they do that?" Elwood asked, throwing a stick for Armstrong to retrieve.

"Usually not," Foley shook his head, "The rule is usually once in heaven, always in heaven. I think it's because they're worried that repeated exposure to earthly sins could convert you over to Hell; it happened a couple of times just after Christ rose again, and they haven't taken any chances since."

"So he can't have her?"

"Probably not without extenuating circumstance," Foley told him, "And once this mission's over, you probably won't see him again. The rule is to immediately return to heaven once the job's done."

Elwood hung his head. It had been so much of a thrill to see Jake again that he'd never thought that his brother might have to leave him again permanently. "So, Foley, Jake told me you wanted to be a top flight comedian?" he asked the huge angel.

"It was my life's dream," Foley lamented, "Instead, I ended up living off a steady diet of government cheese and living in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!"

Elwood cringed as these last words were delivered at a pitched shout. "Did you eat paint chips as a kid, Foley?" he had to know.

"Didn't everyone?" Foley laughed. "Well, I know now the life I did live was fuller than I thought. I made the old ladies I visited every Sunday happy, and I feed the homeless, so my coming to heaven was guaranteed. And the great part is being able to sleep on nice soft clouds instead of having to live in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!"

Elwood shook his head. Jake made the strangest friends in heaven, he thought. "Nice work," he patted Armstrong as the dog approached him with the stick. He tossed it across the lawn again.

"Anywho, Jake showed me the basic plan for getting the last piece of the Relic," Foley showed him a piece of paper, "I'm going to be on standby to help you guys on this one, since Jake figures Hell's going to defend this last piece for all…"

"Hey Elwood, hurry up, we're going to be on TV here," Mack called out the back window. Elwood rushed toward the house without bothering to look over Foley's plans. "Oh well," Foley shrugged, producing another bone for Armstrong as the dog returned again.

Inside the house, Elwood dashed to the back porch, where Mack was watching the old-fashioned black and white TV set with Zee and Keith, as well as Jennifer and Ray, fresh from the clutches of the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s (Reverend James, also unscathed, was now out back at the barbeque pit with Latifah, cooking dinner for everyone. Two commercials ran before the CNN announcer's face popped up. "And the big story of the evening, for those of you just joining us, is that the Blues Brothers have announced their latest stop on their comeback tour will be just before Game 7 of the World Series," he announced, "The impact of this announcement has sent tidal waves unbeknown to many throughout the country. So many people have now swamped the Yankee Stadium box office demanding tickets that ownership a few hours ago announced that five hundred folding chairs will be set up on the field for the show to those who win the raffle for them, to be held tomorrow night. Already the Port Authority of New York has reported that it is swamped with buses coming in from all over the country carrying diehard Blues Brother fans waiting to catch a glimpse of the legendary group in action. Our on the spot reporter Ted Williamson now joins us from Yankee Stadium with an early-arriving group of Blues Brothers fan; Ted?"

"Boy kid, your promotional online tour sure worked well," Elwood complimented Keith.

"I've got connections with all the major fan groups," Keith told him.

"He has since he was eleven," Jennifer gave him a strong kiss. Elwood was glad she and the others had been unharmed. "In fact," the girl continued, "If you still wanted him after this last concert, I think he'd do well as your promotional director, Elwood. He really knows how…."

"Hold up a minute, we want to hear this," Ray raised his hand. Ted the reporter was standing in front of Yankee Stadium with about two dozen people in—to Elwood's surprise—Blues Brothers suits. "Excuse me, could you tell us your name?" the reporter asked one of them.

"I'm Johnny from Biloxi, and my buddies and I run a Blues Brothers tribute band all over southern Mississippi," the young man said excitedly into the microphone, "When word came down that the original Blues Brothers show band and review would be here, we had to get tickets."

"Now we're told that rumors have been circulating over the internet that there'll be a big surprise at this performance," Ted the reporter told him, "Could you perhaps give us a hint on what you think it'll be?"

"Jake's alive, baby!" a large fan yelled happily from the back of the crowd, "What else could it be?"

"And what makes you think Jake's alive?"

"They never found the body!" a young woman yelled, "Joliet Jake Blues is alive! He's been biding his time, and now he's going to come out and reveal himself to the world!"

"Well, there you have it, several fans' opinions what to expect two night from now when the Blues Brothers make a one-night-only stop on their comeback tour that promises to be the best ever," Ted told the anchor, "Back to you Phil."

"Wow, this is just like with Kennedy, conspiracy theories and all," Elwood whistled, "Wait to Jake comes back; he's got to hear about this."

"Not bad for a brother I never even knew," Zee nodded. He turned back to the screen as Phil the anchor continued, "So the question is, is Joliet Jake Blues really alive? And if so, why didn't he join his brother Elwood when he tried to restart the band two years ago? At this moment your guess would be as good as ours, since, as that fan pointed out, Jake disappeared, but a body was never found. CNN sources have discovered that the last known sighting of Jake was on March 10, 1997, shortly after having been released from jail for his crimes committed during his previous time outside of prison. Since then, occasional sighting have been reported around the Chicago metro area from time to time, and these have grown in frequency over the last few weeks, with many who attended a Blues Brothers concert in Gator Bay, Louisiana recently claiming Jake actually appeared on stage. CNN has attempted to contact Chicago officials, hoping for their opinion on the matter, but all contact to the city appears to be shut down for some reason at the moment."

"And why not?" Jake abruptly reappeared in an armchair, causing everyone—except for Ray—to jump in shock. "The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s are shutting out the city from the outside world," the angel continued, "By the time we get back there, it should be completely isolated. What?"

"They were just talking about how they thought you were alive," Mack told him, "It seems to be a popular theory."

"Yeah, I know, I watched Eddie and the Cruisers too," Jake said, leaving many furled eyebrows at the thought of what that had to do with anything. "I thought you were out takin' her for a flight?" Elwood asked him.

"I still am," Jake said, "I can divide myself, remember? Anyway, I need to know what we'll expect from people on this world once we get to New York."

He clicked his fingers. Without stopping, the anchor switched from the weather in the Pacific Northwest and said, "As for the law, we have received word that nearly five thousand local, state, and national law enforcement personal will completely have Yankee Stadium locked down to prevent the Blues Brothers from escaping."

"Say Jake, Suntzman…." Elwood started to say.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Jake told him, "And the sad irony of him killing me was that I knew nothing of corruption at the Department of Corrections. Alvy Riley didn't talk to me. It was another guy who was supposed to get out earlier he talked to. But his parole got denied, and I was the first out. Now my body's lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan. And the saddest part was I was going to look for you," he looked at a shocked Zee, "I'd heard of you from some other guys, and wanted to find my blood brother. Wanted to get you to join the band."

He looked at the floor glumly. Zee took his brother's hand. "Hey, better to know my brother after death than not at all," he said softly, "and after all the mayhem, I actually like you, Jake."

Jake looked up at him and smiled. "Anyway, there's no need for us to be negative," he said, staring out the window at the other half of himself still soaring through the sky with Katrina, "In two days we're going to have the best gig in history. It'll be a performance for the ages."


	29. New York, New York

A warm sun shone over Yankee Stadium on the afternoon of October 30. The deserted facility stood in silent vigil of the stage being loudly built at the cusp of the infield.

From an access tunnel, three figures walked out onto the field and approached the stage. "How's it coming?" Latifah called to the builders.

"Just about there, Miss LaGrange," Sam called down to her from the front, "Once they shut out the stadium lights, this is going to look brilliant. We've been working on several pyrotechnic and lighting effects that'll look spectacular."

"I hope so," Curtis commented, "I've waited a long time for them to do this again. This is what I always dreamed for them: a huge audience of over fifty thousand people."

"Say, who are you again?" Dave asked the dead bluesman, who didn't answer. Curtis instead walked up onto the stage and tapped a trapdoor in the center with his foot. "I hope Jake can open this once the fireworks go off," he remarked, "A whole lot of people won't want them to get off this stage."

"I also hope they don't find their new car before the show's over," Clarence told his old partner. Curtis had personally driven up the Good Old Boys' Winnebago for the Brothers—using his own holy powers to make it invisible—and had parked it inside an abandoned subway track below the stadium. The Brothers, it had been planned out, would head down there once they had obtained the last piece of the Relic and finished the show and take off, preferably before the authorities could figure out where they'd gone.

"I doubt it," Curtis reassured him, "Hell's going to be so preoccupied trying to keep them from getting the Relic that they won't bother to look for an escape vehicle."

"Whatever," Clarence shrugged. He tapped several neon signs on the stage. "Oh yes," he nodded, "This'll do fine. Now all we need is for them to be able to get here on time."

"And the problem is," Latifah voiced a concern of her own, "How're they going to get here when they told us to take the Winnebago?"

* * *

"Here she comes," Jake pointed over the horizon in front of the farmhouse. Out of the clear blue sky came a sleek silver shape. "The Goodyear blimp?" Mack was amazed, "You rented the Goodyear blimp?"

"It was going to go over the stadium anyway, so I figured we might as well travel in style for once," Jake said, "Besides, now we get to make a big dramatic entrance."

"And we won't have to sneak through security," Elwood realized another advantage to air travel. "Better step back, Armstrong, this thing'll blow a stiff wind," he told the dog as he and the other humans stepped back to give the blimp plenty of space to land. The band and the disco bikers had already left—at Jake's request—and thus they were the only ones left on the farm. The blimp sank lower and lower, eventually hovering a few feet off the ground in the fields to the south. "Going our way?" Foley called from the cockpit window.

"You know it," Elwood hefted his briefcase and led the group toward the blimp. He scrambled up the ladder into the cockpit. "Thanks for the lift, pal," he told the pilot at the wheel.

"Hey, for what you guys pay, I'd fly you to Antarctica," the pilot held up a bag of gold in ecstasy, "So it's Yankee Stadium, right?"

"That's right," Jake was the last one in, "Hover over until we get instructions from our ground crew. Then we're going in. Foley, you set the cables?"

"They're ready to roll, Jake," Foley held up several metal cables attached to the side of the blimp, "They've just got to look closely where they throw them."

"And we're just supposed to slide down these from a thousand feet in the air into the stadium?" Zee gulped nervously.

"We ain't gonna die doin' it, brother," Elwood reassured him, "We're on a mission from God, remember?"

"OK Cosmo, take her up and set a course for New York City," Jake instructed the pilot, "Our destiny awaits."

* * *

The sun was starting to go down as the band walked out onto the field. The stage lay completed before them. "What a place," Murphy commented, staring around at the thousands of seats around them, "Now this is where we should have played twenty years ago. We could have put all those orphans through college with the gate money from this."

"Who would have thought, Jake and Elwood Blues, crusaders for the less fortunate?" Matt chuckled, "Well, now we're playing for the whole world, so I guess we are topping it."

"That you are, boys," Curtis abruptly appeared behind them again. Everyone dropped their instruments in shock again. "Seriously," the dead man scolded them, "You'll break them if you keep doing that."

"And we'll keep dropping if you keep doing that," Mr. Fabulous told him, "How'd you get here?"

"That's a trade secret," Curtis walked up onto the stage, which was divided in the middle by a set of steps. Earlier, it had been agreed that Murphy would play the piano and Paul the special keyboard Ray had managed to put together. They were on raised white platforms on the left side of the stage, along with band slots for the guitars. Both sets of drums for Willie and Jordan were on the right side, along with the slots for the horns. "Right now it would be time for you all to get warmed up," Curtis continued as the band took what was to be their places, "Clarence and I are going to give the crowd a little treat before Elwood and the others show up."

"Uh, one quick question, how are we supposed to get out of here after they're done?" Steve Cropper inquired as they took the stage, "Even now there's cops everywhere out there."

"Leave it to me," Curtis gave him a mysterious smile.

* * *

Elwood stared into the west at the setting sun. They were moving up the Delaware River at a leisurely rate of speed. Down below, the fall foliage shone like rainbows in the twilight. "Hey Buster, want to come see the view?" he called to his surrogate son.

"Sure," Buster ran over. Elwood lifted him up so he could see more easily. "It's beautiful," the boy whispered in awe.

"Oh yeah," Elwood nodded in agreement, "I always wished we coulda done something like this when I was your age—camp out in the woods, I mean. The Penguin never let us leave the city. Same with you?"

"Basically," Buster nodded, "It's lovely to see the world more. You feel cooped up in an orphanage. You know, I never thought I'd be doing something important like what we're going to do."

"Oh yeah," Elwood nodded again, "People always write off us orphans. They don't think we're good for anything. Well, tonight we're gonna prove 'em wrong. And ya know what the best part's gonna be, Buster?"

"What?"

"That you and I are gonna do it together," Elwood told him. He shared a warm look with his young friend for a minute, and then went back to foliage watching as they slowly started to turn towards New York.

* * *

Yankee Stadium was starting to fill up very quickly as dusk fell. Outside the stadium, buses dislodged dozens of people in Blues Brothers shirts toward the swamped ticket windows. MTV and VH-1 crews were talking with many of them as they made their way inside the stadium.

Also standing out in the parking lot was the hundreds of law enforcement vehicles that had made the journey up from Virginia. Police, FBI agents, soldiers, S.W.A.T. team members, and other keepers of the peace filed into through the gates, rifles armed. It was through a crowd of Blues Brother enthusiasts that Mercer and his entourage were now weaving. "One side, slackers, one side!" the Department of Corrections chairman ordered the fans, pushing several of them dismissively aside. "I'll tell you guys, at this rate no one here's going to stick around for the game," he confided in the others.

"Did you see, they're selling merchandise at the front gate," Mount said, sounding very upset, "If I see another T-shirt of these goons, I'm going to throw up."

"We've got to watch out for Jake, I just know he's going to be here," a nervous Suntzman said as they moved up the ramps to the upper deck behind home plate.

"For the last time, Warden, Jake is dead," Agent Orange rolled his eyes.

"No he's not, you moron!" yelled a nearby fan, "And he's going to be here tonight, you wait and see!"

"Well if he is, he's not getting off the stage," General Storrs commented firmly, "We'll take him out same as the rest of them."

"Yeah, you want to just shoot everyone in sight, don't you?" Tony grumbled at him. Keith's father had been miserable the whole way up.

"Ah, lighten up, Danson, will you?" Marvin rebuked him, "Your attitude's starting to grate on me."

"OK, OK, everyone settle down, we're here for a show and an arrest," Mercer separated them. They reached their seats near the bottom of the upper deck. "Police, give up the seats," Daniel flashed his badge at the people sitting in them. They would have defied him if it weren't for Ness's loud growling. Mercer lifted his dog into the seat on the end and plopped down into his own. "Marvin, go check with the local cops to shut off the exits," he informed Joliet's head guard, "Put a guy at every ramp and staircase. And get me a hot dog and an orange whip while you're at it."

In the lower deck along the first base line, Tyrone Terrell and his drug dealers slid into empty seats. They had been forced to leave their guns behind so as not to tip off security, but were more than prepared to take out the Blues Brothers with their bare knuckles. "I don't see them anywhere," one of the dealers commented.

"They'll show up," Terrell stated confidently, "and when they do, they're all ours."

"And when we're done killing them, can I get some autographs from the players?" Vinnie asked his brother.

"NO!" Terrell kicked him in disgust.

"Well can we at least stay and watch the game, Ty?"

Up in the upper deck in right field, the Black Diamond Riders and the Good Old Boys sat down in their reserved seats. They had managed to circumvent security by carrying in baseball bats, which they'd told the guards they wanted to have autographed. Of course, their intentions with the bats were far more sinister. "You can barely make out the stage from up here," Mad Dog commented, squinting at the structure far below them.

"So sue me," Bob snorted, "These were the best seats I could get after every one of their dang fans bought up the good seats in the house."

"Say, I think that might be Topton down there," one of the bikers pointed at the field. The Gibbstown Disco Gang was pulling onto the field around the stage, 8-tracks blaring. "Ack!" one of the Good Old Boys cringed in pain, "I hate that sound! It's so not Nashville!"

"It's only for a little bit, Lester, just think positive," Tucker patted his band mate, "And soon our quarry will be entering the trap."

On the roof, unseen by the snipers and S.W.A.T. sharpshooters now circling and watching the field, Camille and the Nazis were leaning against the light fixtures, confidently watching everything below. "Our trap should be perfect," the former remarked, "If those Russians and paramilitaries know how to shoot straight."

"Don't you worry about them, lady, I can sense they've got the killer instinct," the Head Nazi reassured her, "And they may not have to be used at all, in fact." A devious smile crossed his face. "Because once our Fuehrer meets those baboons," he said darkly, "They may not be in one piece to finish this little show of theirs."

* * *

The lights of New York glistened in the night underneath the blimp as it cruised over midtown Manhattan on its way to the Bronx. From where he was standing, Elwood could just make out the glow of Yankee Stadium's lights in the far distance. He picked up his briefcase from the floor and locked the cuff around his wrist. Best to start getting prepared for the big jump, he figured.

"You know guys," Zee commented from up front next to the pilot, "If there's still a world left after this, I've been thinking, we could make great profits if we create separate units to go around the country and perform."

"You know guys who'd be willing to play us in concert?" Mack sounded skeptical.

"I know a couple of guys back in Chicago: Honeydripper Paparazzi, Pipes McDonnell, they have a good blues sounds," Zee told him, "I'm just saying, we could make a lot of money running different groups."

"Well, in Heaven you learn money isn't everything, brother," Jake was putting on a pair of headphones. "Curtis, we are five minutes from the park," he told his father figure over them, "You and Clarence give them the warm-up."

Behind the stage, Curtis was wearing his own headphones. "Gotcha Jake, we're going in now," he told him. "Miss LaGrange, give us our intro," he told Latifah from the wings.

"You're just going to go out like that, Curtis?" Clarence stared dubiously at his late partner's shabby old suit. He'd already changed into his sparkling blue outfit and shades.

"Not to fear, Clarence," Curtis spun rapidly around in a circle. When he stopped, he'd changed into a glittering white suit. "Just like old times," he told his friend, "We're going to have fun out here tonight."

"Oh yes," Clarence almost cried as he examined the thousands of fans lining the stadium, "I never thought I'd live to see the day we'd play something this big together."

The stadium's lights dimmed to loud applause. Soon all was dark except for the spotlight trained on the center of the stage. Latifah walked into it. "Good evening New York," she told the crowd, "Tonight, for your pleasure, please welcome the magic tandem, the most powerful blues duo of the Forties, Clarence Craycroft and Curtis Salamone."

Polite applause greeted the two men as they walked out onto the stage, which was now illuminated by blue strobe lights flashing around the edges and under the floor. "And how are we tonight?" being on stage seemed to have electrified Curtis, who was becoming quite excited to be before a crowd. "I've just received word that the Blues Brothers should be here very shortly, so for now, we'd like to keep you busy. Boys, give us something good."

The band broke into a classic blues rhythm. This was the cue for Sam and Dave to light up the stage. Curtis nodded in agreement at the backdrop behind them, an exact replica of the Palace Hotel Ballroom backdrop, only with the neon signs flashing on and off. Up in the stands, Agent Orange glanced impatiently at his watch. "So where the hell are they?" he demanded, "They're supposed to be here, not two old geezers!"

"Trust me, they'll be here," Mount told him, "They always show up no matter how much we throw up."

"And when they do, they'll find there's no way in here except through us," Mercer agreed, taking a long sip from his orange whip.

Neither they nor anyone else noticed the blimp now circling overhead. Inside, the Blues Brothers listened to the music waft up as they started attaching themselves to the lines in preparation for their entrance. Elwood gently pushed Armstrong's support into place and inserted the harmonica into it. "Don't lose it on the way down, 'cause I ain't got no more," he told the dog as he hooked it up.

"OK, just remember while your out there, you're doing this for the entire world of rhythm and blues," Jake gave everyone a last minute pep talk, "Otherwise just enjoy yourself and give one heaven of a show. Elwood, you come with me after the third song, and we'll get that last piece of the Relic. Tell the band to keep going until he gets back."

He activated the headphones again. "One more song, Curtis, then we're coming in," he informed Curtis down below. The singers all took their places by the blimp's door, ready to jump.

Down below, Clarence and Curtis finished up their last song. Curtis waved for the band to hold up for a minute. After twenty seconds of silence, he gave the thumbs-up signal to Murphy, then to Sam and Dave underneath the stage. The stagehands promptly started several more strobe lights flashing. At the sound of "Can't Turn You Loose," a low rumble started in the stadium. It was quickly accompanied by the clapping of hands and loud cries, not to mention the sounds of the motorcycles parked around the stage starting their engines. "And now ladies and gentlemen," Curtis announced into the microphone over the rising din, "We're proud to present to you the evening's main event."

"Live from Calumet City Illinois," Clarence cut in, looking happier than he had in years, "The men, the myths, the legends, a very part of the cultural fiber of America, the show band of Brother Zee, Mighty Mack,…"

"Cabel," Curtis swelled with pride at his son's mention, "Buster, and all the rest…"

"Including the legendary Elwood J. Blues himself," Clarence now had to practically scream at the top of his lungs to be heard over the crowd, "Live on this the latest stop on their ultimate comeback tour…"

"Please give a warm New York welcome," both partners announced simultaneously, "to the one, the only, THE BLUES BROTHERS!"

"GO!" Jake yelled as the music reached a crescendo. Elwood tossed his line out the door and led the dive down toward the stage, which seemed to be exploding from pyrotechnics and flames Sam and Dave were now setting off to herald their arrival. There was already a strange pinging in his ears from all the noise below. Somehow—but not surprisingly, given that they WERE on a mission from God—he and the others touched down on the stage amid all the fireworks. Elwood dusted himself off, unlocked Armstrong form his harness, held out his arm for Zee to unlock the cuff, withdrew his harp, placed the briefcase behind Willie's riser, and slid back top the center of the stage with the others to wild—unbelievably wild—applause. Up in the stands, Mercer had his hand over his face in shock. "I don't believe it!" he exclaimed to no one in particular, "They tricked us again!"

"Well they may get in like that, but they're not getting out," General Storrs reached for his radio. "All aerial units, I want a constant fly-over on the stadium until they make their next move!" he ordered.

Back on stage, Elwood approached his microphone. He was in awe of all the people there just to watch them. Loud chants of "BLUES BROTHERS, BLUES BROTHERS!" echoed around the stadium. It was a great night for a show. He nodded to Zee, who counted down, "One, two, one, two, three, four!" The band broke into the opening strains of "Give Me Some Loving" to loud applause. "We're so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight at Yankee Stadium," Elwood gave his introductory speech, "We'd like to give special thanks to Curtis and Clarence for that great intro, and hope you enjoy the rest of the show. Here's Brother Zee with our first piece for your listening pleasure."

"Well my temperature's rising and my feet's on the floor, twenty people rocking now, there want to go more," Zee launched into the tune with great gusto. All the hard work with Clarence had paid off; they all danced about the stage in perfect rhythm and harmony, and the band didn't miss a single beat. Everyone in the stadium clapped enthusiastically with the lyrics—except for the Black Diamond Riders and Good Old Boys, who had their hands firmly over their ears. "I hate this tune!" Mad Dog growled, his complaints drowned out by the cheers all around them.

"Hate it? I LOATHE it!" Bob countered, bending his head down low so he wouldn't have to look at the performance, "They played this same dang song at my old place when they crashed it! Somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery, please!"

The song eventually finished to loud applause. Elwood stared around with misty eyes at everyone lauding them. He could sense something magical was happening—something naturally magical, that was. He walked over to Buster and lifted the boy up. "You know, my pal Buster and I would have to say that life ain't too good for orphans," he told the crowd. "All in all we're treated like dirt by everyone. The good Lord says you shouldn't hold your woes in, so Buster and I are going to lay them out for you here and now. One, two, one, two, three, four."

The band started up "Messing with the Kid." The rest of the singers stepped back up the stairs, letting Elwood and Buster, with Armstrong accompanying on harmonica, sing the lyrics. In the stands, Vinnie rose up, offended. "Hey, you can insinuate that!' he yelled in protest at the song, "We took good care of those kids; we gave them shelter, food….!"

"Shut up you!" the woman behind him whacked him with her program, "I'm trying to enjoy this!"

"Yeah, what's the matter with you!" Terrell slapped his brother's shoulder, "You might as well just yell out, 'Drug dealers, this row,' so cork it!"

Behind home plate, Jack Lancaster was equally offended. "Is he talking to me!" he demanded slurrily, having already helped himself to four of Yankee Stadium's brews.

"I think he was, actually," Marvin squinted at the stage. Indeed, Elwood had seemed to be pointing at them during the refrain, his voice going up several octaves in apparent anger every time he'd sang, "I call it messin' with the kid."

"Well, he's mine then!" Jack rose to get up, but Suntzman pulled him down. "Honestly, you've seen these people," he pointed to the large throngs of Blues Brother enthusiasts surrounding them, "If we go after them now, these nuts'll kill us. So lay off the alcohol a little and just be patient!"

Any personal meaning with the song was lost on the rest of the crowd, who gave it another loud ovation. Out of the corner of his eye Elwood caught Jake descending invisibly toward the stage. "Our own Mighty Mack would now like to perform an old classic," he told the crowd, "One that those of you who might have attended the Palace Hotel Ballroom gig would be familiar with. One, two, one, two, three, four."

Matt's initial guitar solo was drowned out by loud cheers. It now seemed to Elwood that he and the others were standing right behind a live jumbo jet. The roar of the motorcycles as they drove in circles around the stage didn't help the hearing either. But at least now he was going to get a brief respite. He joined Mack for the first few choruses of "Come on, baby don't you want to go? Back to that same old place, sweet home Chicago," before tap-dancing off-stage as inconspicuously as he could. "How're we doin', Jake?" he asked his brother.

"Better than I could have possibly imagined," Jake smiled from ear to ear. "Come on, the last piece of the Relic's this way."


	30. The Worst of Hell

At the back of the stage, Jake took hold of Elwood's sleeve and abruptly started burrowing into the ground much as he had during their first Relic excursion. The next thing Elwood knew, they were in middle of another large cave. "Boy, you never know where you'll find these things," he remarked.

"This way," Jake pointed to the right, "Be very careful, there's bound to be traps everywhere down here."

"Say, what's that sign say?" Elwood noted a sign bizarrely attached to the wall near a corner of the cave. As they got closer, he squinted at it. "Loser's Ahead," he read off it, "What does that…?"

His question was answered as he stumbled on a tripwire, and a large arcing steel blade sliced through the air right at his throat. He and Jake hit the floor just in time. "Loser's Ahead," he commented, "Now I get it."

"I said be careful," Jake scolded him. He dusted himself off and helped his brother back up, "Well, I can sense it isn't too much further off, we just…"

"Ya hear something Jake?" Elwood raised his hand. There was a strange and ominous clicking sound behind them. Again he got a speedy and liberal answer as a giant scorpion scampered into view and swung its stinger at them. "Well, there was never a better time to start a physical fitness routine," Jake shrugged, avoiding its pincer. He and Elwood broke into a hard run up the cavern. They were making remarkably good progress despite the scorpion's relentlessness. But they weren't out of the woods just yet. A pit lay ahead of them, and inside of it were giant snapping Venus flytraps. "Really, you have to wonder how these things can survive as long as they can down here," Elwood remarked.

"Jump now!" Jake took a spectacular leap over the pit and pulled Elwood up when he fell just a little short. They watched as the scorpion slipped off the end of the pit and was devoured by the Venus flytraps. The brothers breathed sighs of relief and continued onward. Jake held up his hand at the intersection of another cave path. He drew a metal ball and tossed it into the center of the intersection. "Step only where I step," he told Elwood. He hopped in an irregular pattern to the other side of the crossing. Elwood followed him as best he could. No sooner was he on the other side than the stalactites on the ceiling came thundering down like large spikes, smashing hard into the floor. "Impressive thinking," Jake said. His ball had been flattened, and was now about fifteen feet in diameter on the floor. He turned and continued onward. After a few yards, he stopped again and exclaimed, "Aha." The tunnel dead-ended at a large steel door, much like a bank vault. Beams of red light crisscrossed the area in front of it. "Follow me exactly again," was Jake's latest advice to Elwood. He leaned back until he was almost horizontal and inched his way through the gaps in the beams. Elwood tried to go backwards, but found it was too hard on his back. Instead, he removed his hat and crawled under the beams on his hands and knees, miraculously avoiding them all. The steel door now loomed above them. Four combination locks were in the middle of it. Jake spun them around until they read 7-7-7-7. "Stand back," he instructed Elwood as he grabbed the handle, "There's no telling what on the other side of this thing."

Elwood obliged. Jake yanked the door open slowly. Nothing happened. Elwood hesitantly glanced around the door. As big as the cavern they were in happened to be, this one was ten times bigger—so big in fact he couldn't see the other wall. He could, however take note of a large lake in the middle of the chamber, and in the middle of that was a large rock island, on top of which a magical beam of light was shining. "So t hat's the last piece?" he asked Jake.

"That's it," Jake flexed his knuckles, "Stay close."

It seemed to Elwood that they walked a mile to reach the edge of the lake. There was a series of stepping stone leading to the island, which seemed strangely familiar to him, although he couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before. They hopped over the stones, until Jake stopped him about a quarter of the way across. "Don't step on the black ones," he warned, pointing to one black stone in front of them, "They would set the whole works off."

Elwood nodded and leaped to the next gray stone. After another apparent mile, they made it all the way across. The other half of the cross glistened in the light at the top of the island. The brothers started climbing up toward it…

When abruptly a cold pair of hands burst from the rocks and tripped them. They rolled down to the bottom of the island. "Going somewhere, Catholics?" came a cold voice with a heavy German accent.

"Jake, don't tell me we gotta get by old Adolf here?" Elwood asked his brother, concerned. Sure enough, Hitler himself burst out of the rocks—only he was hideously devolved, clearly well on his way to becoming a pure demon. And unfortunately, he wasn't alone. More evil historical figures whose names Elwood had glanced over during Mother Stigmata's history classes, but now wished he'd given more attention to, were popping up out of the earth. He recognized Stalin, Nero, Vlad the Impaler, Tojo, King Leopold, and several others. "Great!" Jake cursed, "The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s got everyone close to the devil for the last piece!"

"And you'll never leave here alive!" Pol Pot lunged forward with a plague spore. He tossed it crazily, missing the brothers by a substantial distance. Jake dug something metal out of his pocket. "Here," he tossed another one at Elwood, "You're going to need this!"

"What's this, one of those things from that space movie?" Elwood activated it. Sure enough, it was a blue-hued light saber. He swung it at Idi Amin, who was charging at him with a red-hued one. "Do you really think you can win, colonial swine!" the dictator snarled as they traded blows, "You're grossly outnumbered!"

"Well, more dire odds have been overcome," Elwood shrugged. He pointed over Amin's shoulder. "Say, what's that?"

Amin stupidly fell for it and turned away. Elwood pushed him over into the lake. He didn't have a time to breath, however, as Robespierre was now upon him. "Better be careful," the revolutionary leader taunted him, "This isn't a good time to lose your head!"

From seemingly up his sleeve, he started flinging guillotine blades at Elwood. Elwood sliced them through as well as he could….

And suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back. Howling, he had to duck Robespierre's last blade. Turning his head, he saw the source of the problem; Papa Doc Duvalier had a voodoo doll dressed just like the musician in his hand, and was pricking it with a pin. "Hey, cut it out!" Elwood warned him, "I don't go cursin' you!"

"Too bad. Otherwise you could do this!" Duvalier started hitting the doll's head with one of its arms. Simultaneously, Elwood found himself punching his own face with his free hand. He swung a kick at the Caribbean tyrant, forcing him to drop the doll. He climbed up to a higher point on the island, forcing Robespierre to aim upwards at him. Unable to make a direct aim anymore, Robespierre simply yanked out the rock Elwood was standing on, sending him crashing down to earth. Before he could guillotine him, though, a limp King Leopold toppled down on top of him. "And let that be a lesson to you!" Jake told the Belgian autocrat from above, "Pillaging villages in the Congo gets you…"

"Watch the back door, Jake!" Elwood shouted out his warning just in time, as Tojo was just about to sneak up behind his brother with his own light saber, which was shaped like a Samurai sword. Jake spun around and parried the military man's blow. "So, Hidecki, you want to play rough?" he asked him, "All right, I can play rough."

And with that, he morphed into a Samurai. Letting out an unintelligible yell, he charged Tojo, and soon the two of them were in a heated duel. Elwood, meanwhile, tried sneaking up the back of the island toward the cross, which lay tantalizingly above him. Unfortunately, Vlad the Impaler was right in his path now. "You gonna toss spikes like your French pal tosses blades?" Elwood had to ask him.

The Transylvanian tyrant answered this by flinging large iron spikes at his head. Elwood charged at him with his head down, but Vlad turned into a bat as he swung the light saber and fluttered over his head, laughing. Elwood took several ineffective swipes at him. "I shoulda brought some Raid," he commented.

Abruptly, he felt like his feet were on fire. Howling, he danced around, trying to stamp out the pain. He saw Papa Doc holding a match to his voodoo doll. "How many times have I gotta tell ya to let me fight fair here!" he yelled.

Papa Doc didn't answer, instead banging the doll's head against the rocks. Elwood found himself doing the same thing—very painfully. The Haitian dictator reached for the doll's leg, ready to rip it off…

When a large hand grabbed his shoulder. "You'll have plenty of time for cursing people when you're living in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!" Foley yelled in his ear. The huge angel snatched the voodoo doll out of Papa Doc's hand, then picked him up and tossed him across the lake into the wall. "I'm ready!" he yelled at no one in particular, activating his own light saber, "Give me everything you got!"

"All right then," Nero jumped downwards, "Face my lyre of doom!"

He strummed the strings, causing the lyre to belch a blast of energy that knocked Foley down. Nero leaped forward…

And was hit in the chest with one of Robespierre's blades. "Not me you moron!" he yelled at the Frenchman as he slumped downward.

"Oops," Robespierre gulped. Foley jumped in front of his and put a hand over Robespierre's face, causing his head to simply roll off his shoulders. The rest of Robespierre's body stumbles blindly around, firing guillotine blades in all directions. Elwood didn't have much time to pay attention, as Mussolini was now coming at him with a light saber of his own. The singer engaged him, and after a heated fight thrust his own light saber through his chest. "Sorry about that pal," he told the fascist, who moaned in agony, "But at least you're already dead, so it shouldn't hurt too much."

He patted Mussolini on the shoulder, causing him to tumble down into the lake. He looked around for reference. Foley had now taken the form of a Samurai himself, and was dueling Pol Pot near the stepping stones. Yelling gibberish, he forced the Khmer Rouge leader out onto them, eventually onto a dreaded black stone, which promptly collapsed into the lake. Foley leaped back to the island. "How's it hanging, buddy?" he asked Elwood.

"Well, it's could have been…" Elwood suddenly felt something land on his neck. Vlad as the bat was trying to suck his blood. He fell to the ground again, trying to get the vampire off.

"Hold still!" came Jake's voice. Elwood froze up and felt the hum of Jake's light saber slash down. Vlad shrieked, then went silent. Elwood dusted himself off. "Domo origato, or however it goes," he told him. Still as the Samurai himself, Jake bowed…then turned around and sliced Tojo's light saber right in two just as the military man was sneaking up on him. "Ha ha!" he snickered. Gulping, Tojo drew a shorter light saber and committed harikari. Both Jake and Foley morphed back to their normal selves. "That was fun," Jake remarked, "Ever since I saw that show with the guy running the deli, I…"

"Uh, Jake, here comes Adolf and Joseph," Elwood pointed. Hitler and Stalin were looking furious as they stormed down the rocks toward them. "Arrogant fools!" the Nazi snarled, "You may be able to destroy those rejects, but the best of the master race will destroy you!"

"Oh that's original," Foley laughed, "Well Adolf, we'd love to see what you've got!"

"Like this?" Hitler abruptly sprouted six additional arms, each one holding a double-bladed light saber. Stalin did the same (only his light sabers were labeled GLORY TO STALIN, FATHER OF OUR PEOPLES, GREAT GUIDER OF OUR DESTINY). "As I always said," the Soviet boss said, advancing slowly forward, "Better than a hundred heads be cut off than one wrecker get away, and you are all wreckers."

"And they're all mine," Hitler knocked him down and raised all his arms high. "Wait a minute!" Stalin protested, "You're not going to pull that one again!"

Hitler ran him through. "Yes, I am," he said coldly, "I was summoned first. GESTAPO!"

It seemed to Elwood like the walls were abruptly changing. Zombie-like storm troopers were crawling out of every crevice and corner, growling apocalyptically. "Oh no you won't!" Jake charged the Nazi leader, despite the fact he was significantly outnumbered in regards to light sabers—a fact amplified when Hitler grew four more arms. Elwood instinctively rushed forward to assist his brother. "No, get the cross!" Jake told him, ducking several swipes, "Foley and I can take out old short mustache here!"

Foley jumped on Hitler's back and began choking him. "Nighty-night!" he roared, "Time to go to bed little girlies!"

Hitler roared in German and swung five arms at him. Elwood took the distraction to run up to the top of the island, where the cross was. He picked it up, and immediately became aware that rocks were falling from the ceiling. "Uh oh," he commented, "I think they rigged a self-destruct thing here."

Bony arms grabbed his legs. The storm trooper zombies were upon him. Elwood shoved the cross into his pocket and started swiping at them. Many of them fell, but more and more of them kept coming. Running down the rocks, he tripped and knocked Hitler over. The dictator grabbed him by the collar with four arms. "Sellout!" he snarled, "You're in my world now, and there's nothing you can do to win!"

Elwood eye-poked him. Groaning, Hitler released him. Elwood raised his light saber and swung at one of Hitler's arms, but the dictator started spinning the light saber that arm was holding, cutting the musician's down to the hilt. Elwood stared at the blade's stump in shock. "I hope they put warranties on these things!" he shouted out loud.

With more Samurai yells, Jake and Foley attacked Hitler again. Another heated duel progressed, one that Hitler tried to exploit by causing stalactites to fall down at his foes. When that failed, he whistled for his storm troopers, and soon the three good guys found themselves surrounded. "Give us the Relic!" one droned.

"Over my dead body!" Jake raised his light saber.

"That's the idea," another blandly commented. They started advancing forward.

"Look, it's Karl Doenitz!" Foley pointed. The storm troopers blindly turned, giving the large angel the opportunity to plow through them like a bull. "Manhattan Express, coming through!" he bellowed, grabbing Jake and Elwood's hands. Enraged Hitler followed them across the stepping stones, but made the same mistake of stepping on a black one and took an abrupt dip in the lake. Letting out a primordial howl, he fired blasts of energy at the roof, causing it to start collapsing. Foley sprouted his own wings and flew at the speed of sound out through the caverns, setting off more self-destruction when he flew through the beams of light. Miraculously, he made it through the cave and back up to the surface just as the rest of the cavern gave way. The three of them breathed big sighs of relief. Curtis came running over. "Tell me you have the last piece of the Relic?" he asked breathlessly.

Elwood dug it out of his pocket and handed it to his father figure. Curtis smiled at it. "At last, we've done it," he proclaimed. He picked up the rest of the Relic from the back of the stage flat and inserted the final piece in. There was a low rumble of thunder overhead. "Was it too difficult getting it?" he had to know.

"Uh, no, piece of cake, piece of carrot cake," Foley said, flexing his knuckles, "It helped that they're stupid."

"All right, we're almost done with the show," Curtis told them, "Once we're done with the next song or two, we should make a break for it."

"Hold that thought, Curtis, there's something I'd like to do first," Elwood told him. He drew his harp from his other pocket and snuck back on stage. The group was about two-thirds of the way through "I Don't Know." The crowd was really into the show, which Elwood had a feeling was already over schedule, as he could see the Cubs and Yankees standing in their respective dugouts, looking impatient. No one seemed to have noticed his absence that he was aware of. He finished the song and soaked in a large cheer. Turning to his band mates, he held up a finger, then pointed at Murphy, mouthing, "Give us the intro." Murphy looked quizzical, but started into "Can't Turn You Loose" again. "And now," Elwood said into his microphone, "We're pleased to give you our special attraction of the night. Here he is, the legend himself, for tonight only, please give a warm welcome to the heart and soul of our group, my brother, Joliet Jake Blues."

He pointed to the wings of the stage. Jake stared at him in wonder. He glanced around, and then slowly trudged out to the center of the stage, where an open microphone stood waiting for him.


	31. The Final Chase Begins

It now seemed to Elwood like they were all standing behind a launching space shuttle. The noise in the stadium at Jake's appearance had everyone screaming so loud he had to cover his eyes in pain. Even then, there was now blotting out the loud enthusiastic chants of "JAKE, JAKE, JAKE, JAKE!" that seemed to come from every single seat in the house—except for the seats in the upper deck behind home plate, where someone, likely Suntzman the murderer, was now screaming terror. Glancing to his right, he saw genuine tears in Jake's eyes as his brother reached the microphone. For a couple of minutes, he just stood stock still, letting it all sink in (deep down, Elwood now wished he'd not let Jake go on stage in Louisiana, as that would have make this moment all the more special). The rest of the singers remained silent, realizing this significance of the moment. Finally, Jake raised his right hand, bringing to the house to a hushed silence. "One," he said slowly, pointing at Donald, "two, one, two, three, four."

At the first sound of the familiar notes being strummed, Yankee Stadium went nuts again. Jake pranced back and forth, just like he had in life. "Comin' to ya," he sang with great gusto into the mike, "on a dusty road, good lovin', I've got a truck load. And when you've get it, you've got something, so don't worry, 'cause I'm comin',…"

"I'm a soul man," Elwood joined up with him in perfect harmony. The two of them danced together up to the edge of the stage, perfectly choreographed with each other. The rest of the group stepped back to the background, content to let the two of them relive old times. Up in the upper deck, Mercer clapped his hands along with the beat. "You know, for a dead guy, he's really got great rhythm," he told an incredulous Agent Orange, "Would you agree, Jim?"

Suntzman had fainted dead away. Next to his boss, Mount shook his head. "As if things couldn't get any more surreal on this trip," he confided in his partner.

"Surreal, yes," an excited VH-1 producer in the aisle waved for his cameraman to come to the edge of the deck, "But this is the biggest story we've had since Milli Vanilli got outted. This is going to revolutionize our music coverage: legendary blues singer alive and well!"

And Jake was all but alive and well on stage, where performing again seemed to be revitalizing him. "I'm a soul man," he crooned at the top of his lungs, dancing back and forth near the edge of the stage, around which the disco bikers were driving at fast clips. The angel slapped hands with each of them as they rode by, "I'm a soul man. You're a soul man, HAK HAK, I'm a soul man!"

Everyone in the stadium gave him a standing ovation as the song came to an excited close. Again, Jake soaked up several minutes of wild applause before taking hold of the microphone again. "Hello New York!" he told the crowds, "I sure hope you've liked our show tonight. My brother Elwood's worked real hard to bring this all together the last few weeks, so while we're nice and polished, we'll do an old classic that all of you'll love. One, two, one, two, three, four."

Again the stadium went ballistic upon hearing the song. "And when you people go home tonight," Elwood spoke into his own microphone, "We'd like you to know that it only takes a little goodness in your hearts to make this world a better place, so go out and love the first person you see, because we all need a some love to make our lives worthwhile, am I right Jake?"

"Everybody needs somebody," Jake belted out, "Everybody needs somebody to love, someone to love, sweetheart to miss, sugar to kiss…."

"I NEED YOU, YOU, YOU!" the crowd was excitedly singing along to the rhythm. Emotions swept over Elwood. He felt like he was on top of the world. This was what he'd waited all his life for. Even if the world did end the next day (and he could make out flying objects now around the light towers that definitely weren't pigeons), he could say he'd reached the top. He felt Armstrong brush against his legs. He knelt down and did a harp duet with is dog as the refrain hit, "Sometimes I feel, I feel a little sad inside, when my baby mistreats me, I never, never, never find a place to hide, I need you!"

"Good Lord," Tucker was grimacing again in his seat, "Don't they place anything original? I hate this trash!"

"Ah, shut up Glenn Campbell," the man behind him pulled his hat down over his eyes, "I'm trying to enjoy the show!"

On stage, Elwood leaped to his feet as Jake's latest verse ended, "And another thing," he told the clapping crowd, "Remember, people, that as I said earlier, sort of, never judge a book by its cover. Because it's often the people you reject like us who do the best things for the world, to make it a better place for all of us. And that's why it's important to show feelings of warmth for all, to love, hug, squeeze and please!"

"Everybody needs somebody, everybody needs somebody to love," the beat was taking over as Jake danced it perfect synchronization with his brother. They were now part of the music itself, "Someone to love, sweetheart to miss, sugar to kiss. I need you, you, you. I need you, you, you. I need you, you, you. I need you, you, you. I need you, you, you. I need you, you, you, in the morning, well my soul's on fire! When there ain't no one around, I need you, you, you, I need you, you, you, I need you, you, you, oh I need YOU!"

Sam and Dave set off a massive set of fireworks at the back of the stage as the song ended. Even Jake had to cover his ears from the cheering now. Elwood could now make out several cops slowly sneaking their way onto the field just behind home plate. "Say Jake, I think they're starting to make their moves," he pointed one finger at the authorities and another at what was now clearly demons circling in the skies above.

"Good, because this was going to be our last one of the night anyway," Jake informed him. He waved the rest of the group forward to the edge of the stage with them. "I'd like you to give an especially large hand to our group here, who have overcome numerous obstacles to become the world-class group you've heard tonight," he told the crowd, prompting another deafening cheer. And now for our last act of the night, I'm going to take a suggestion of our very own Calumet Keith," he rubbed the teen's hair, "Who suggested we get in touch with younger audiences. While we ultimately decided that's not the best option for us, we've like to leave you tonight with a little Bob Seger that I think fits our style. "One more time, one, two, one two, three, four."

Murphy and Willie broke in a slow piano and rum beat. "Took a look down a westbound road, right away I made my choice," Jake crooned softly, "Took a walk out to my old two-wheeler; I was tired of my own voice. Took a bead on the northern plains and just rolled that power on…."

He pointed at Zee, who was in equally high spirits. "Twelve hours out of Mackinaw City, stopped in a bar to have a brew," his natural brother picked up the song. Up in the stands, Mercer rose to his feet. "Everyone on standby, they'll be ending soon," he yelled to every cop within earshot, causing angry groans from people around him, "Come on Tony, we've got to keep them from leaving."

Forget it, Mercer," Danson shrugged him off, watching the stage with rare joy, "I'm staying right here and watching my son. Something I should have done a long time ago."

"You're on hashish," Marvin grumbled. "Come on warden, or they'll get away," he told Suntzman, dragging the coming-to warden to his feet.

Back on stage, Jake danced over to the side of the stage. "Curtis, I'll take the Relic," he told his father figure, who handed it to him. "You guys be careful out there," Curtis warned him, "I saw some demons up there just a few minutes ago."

Jake nodded. "OK, Topton," he called out to Rocky as the biker drove by, "You and your guys keep the cops off the stage until we're gone, then escort the band safely out. Follow us along the subway line; we'll come meet you at Tenth Avenue, and head out to Jersey."

Rocky gave him the thumbs-up. "All right, everyone in the middle of the stage," he whispered to the band members, "We're out of here with the Relic in a minute and a half."

"You really still sing well," Katrina lauded him as he picked her up and personally carried her to the exact middle of the stage.

"We all have our moments," he gave her hair an affectionate rubbing as well. There was a bittersweet look in his eyes, Elwood noticed. He remembered Foley's words about how Jake would have to return to Heaven.

The cops were inching ever closer to the stage. "Now Jake, you're sure this is going to work?" Zee asked him, staring at all the shields closing in.

"Hold that thought, brother," Jake took hold of the microphone again. "Rooooollll, roll me a way, I want you to roll me away tonight," he sang out the refrain loudly, "Got to keep rolling, got to keep looking, keep searching till I find what's right," he held the microphone up to the girl, "Take it honey."

"And as the sunset faded I spoke to the faintest first starlight," Katrina added the line.

"And said next time," the two f them finished together, "NEXT TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMME, WE'LL GET IT RIGHT!"

"That's all you can ask for, people," Elwood added into the mike. He stepped back to the center of the stage with the others, glancing with concern up at the demons above. Next to the light towers, Camille cursed softly. "All those despots and we still couldn't keep them from getting the last piece!" she grumbled.

"They may have it, but that doesn't mean they have to use it," the Head Nazi reassured her. He activated his communication device with Zildrohar. "Bad news, Big Brother, they've got the last piece," he told the Satan worshipper, "If I were you, I'd start the whole thing now."

"Seven," Jake counted down to their exit on stage, "six, five, four, three, two, one." He waved at Sam and Dave, who set off a towering column of pyrotechnics that completely obscured the stage. While the smokescreen was in effect, Jake snapped his fingers, opening the trapdoor and lowering them all out of sight as the song ended. The cops rushed the stage, but the disco bikers held them at bay. "Sorry pal," Rocky told one trooper, pushing him backwards, "No autographs."

"They're making they're move, sir!" one FBI agent yelled over his radio, drowned out by the wild cheers of applause from the fans. He didn't notice all the demons diving out of the sky down the hole, "Cover all the exits; they can't have gone far!"

Underneath the stadium, the Blues Brothers charged their way down a flight of iron steps toward the subway line. "Now that was one heck of a show," Mack commented out loud, pride etched on his face, "If we save the world, we've got to…."

"Freeze it, punks!" they'd turned a corner to find the Russians and militants pointed semi-automatics at them. They were heavily outnumbered. "End of the line, boys," snarled the head militant, "We've got your number now!"

"Hi guys," Elwood waved weakly, "Say, you wouldn't waiting until after we save the would before killing us, would ya?"

The largest Russian stepped forward and lifted him high in the air. "Forget it, numbskull," he laughed, "We've been waiting a long time for…"

Form the back of the group, Jake loud out a strangled cry and fell writhing to the ground. "Jake!" Elwood broke lose from the big Russian's grip and ran over to him, "What now?"

"The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s have started the process!" Jake cried out, shaking visibly, "Hell's opening up wider than an aircraft hangar as we speak! The devil will be out earlier than expected!"

"I thought you said they had to wait for the eclipse and all that?" Cabel looked puzzled.

"This is Hell we're talking about, Chamberlain, they can cheat the rules any time they feel like it!" Jake informed him, "And if we don't get back to Chicago with…oh crap!"

There was a loud shrieking as the demons flew upon them. Much as he had with Vlad the Impaler back in the cave, Elwood found several clinging to his neck. Howling, he rolled around on the floor, trying to force them off, but they were clinging stronger than glue.

"Hang on guys!" came Foley's shout. The huge angel leaped toward them and yanked several demons off each of them. "Go, go!" he ordered them, "I'm hold them off….EEERGGGHHH!"

He abruptly retched as well. Elwood jumped off once the demons were off him. He charged forward through the confused Russians and militants. "Come on!" he yelled, "And don't forget Jake!"

For Jake was still writhing on the floor. Zee picked up by one arm (with the Relic under his own arm) and Mack the other. The eight group members rushed down to the subway track where the Winnebago was waiting. Elwood opened the door and let everyone in. Armstrong was the last, still barking at their would-be attackers on the platforms. Elwood tapped him on the rear to make him go in. "It's 719 miles to Chicago," he announced out loud as he plopped down in the driver's seat, "We've got the Relic intact, a full tank of gas, biker escort," he checked under the sun visor, "No more cigarettes, it's dark, we're underground, and we're all wearing sunglasses."

"HIT IT!" everyone told him. Elwood hot-wired the engine and zoomed up the tracks just as the militants and Russians ran to the end of the platform and started pouring everything they had at them. "That was close," Mack breathed a sigh of relief as he watched them disappear in the rearview mirror.

There was a wail of sirens as several police cars abruptly appeared from another subway entrance and jumped onto the tracks after them. "Or maybe not," Buster gulped, "Floor it Elwood!"

"I've got the pedal to the metal already, kid," Elwood told him. He could see the demons flying hard after them as well. So much for an inconspicuous exit to the city, he shrugged.


	32. The End?

"Traffic's a bit heavy tonight," Elwood remarked offhandedly as he drove out a subway entrance into Times Square traffic, sending a number of taxis scattering to the side with the blaring of horns.

"Better book it, Elwood, he's not looking too good back here," Zee spoke up loudly, just as Jake let out another loud cry of agony in the back of the Winnebago.

"Hang in there, Jake, I'm going as fast as I can-and we've got company already," Elwood swerved wide to the left to avoid a phalanx of cop cars zooming right at them.

"They're not the only ones; the bikers are back too, Elwood," Buster glanced worriedly out the rear windows, where the bikers were on their tail.

"Looks like those country and western guys too," Katrina added, noticing Bob's camper amid the cop cars behind them.

"Give me some time, I think we can lose them," Elwood turned hard to the right, causing four cop cars to crash into each other, "Shouldn't be too much further to the Lincoln Tunnel..."

"About eight more blocks straight ahead," Mack pointed, just as Jake howled in carnal agony, followed by a scream from Katrina. A horrifying scene greated Elwood when he turned around next; Jake's legs were starting to disappear rapidly. "Jake, what's...!?" he gasped in shock.

"The devil's coming out already, Elwood; Hell's...rising...now...!" Jake moaned in agony, "We...can't...make it...!"

"We'll make it, Jake; we're on a mission from God; we can't not make it. Here's the tunnel," sweating, Elwood spun hard to the left down into the Lincoln Tunnel, all of their pursuers still hot on their heels.

"Uh, are the walls supposed to look like that, guys?" Zee was deeply frowning, pointing at the sides of the tunnel. And indeed, Elwood could see what appeared to be burning coals forming on them. "Jake...!?" he asked worriedly.

"It's...too...late...Elwood...!" only Jake's head was visible now. And it was at that moment that the tunnel started tilting forward, lifting the Winnebago off the ground and sending it tumbling forward through space. Elwood could only see horrible flames all around them now as they spiralled towards the depths of Hell, even as something else seemed to be ringing out around him, getting louder and louder...

* * *

"Elwood!? Elwood, come on, wake up...!"

Elwood's eyes flew wide open. A fully recorporated Jake was standing over him. "Jake, you're OK," he exclaimed, "But weren't we...where...?"

He glanced around to find they were in a deserted parlor. And then he remembered; the two of them had decided to shack up for the night in an old abandoned manor house well off the highway to get away from the authorities that had been pursuing them ever since they'd broken out of prison two weeks ago. "Jake, I just had the most incredible dream..." he said softly.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Jake could be seen rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, "You get out of jail, find I'm dead, and go off on a big road trip with McTier, the bartender from down at the Dill Pickle, Curtis's long lost son, and some kid from the orphanage to..."

"Nope, not this time," Elwood shook his head; he had, however, been having that dream a lot lately for some reason, "This one was bigger and better; it was up to us to dave the world, with a whole bunch of people we'd never met before..."

He slowly related the entire dream to Jake. "Well, all I can say is, I knew you were asking too much having that wicked a pepper steak for dinner," Jake shook his head softly, "Well, try and get back to sleep; we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

He trudged back to the sofa he'd crashed on for the night and pulled the blanket up to his neck. Elwood leaned back in the armchair he'd chosen and pulled up his blanket as well. "Say Jake," he called to his brother, "You couldn't have waited a few minutes later to wake me up? I really wanted to see if we saved the world..."

"Well, go on back to sleep and find out," Jake mumbled, "Glad to know I was part of this one, unlike that other dream; it wouldn't be right if I wasn't there..."

"Yeah, Jake, I'm glad you ain't really dead," Elwood nodded to himself, "It wouldn't be the same without you at all. Jake?"

A loud snore hinted Jake had already fallen asleep again. Elwood shrugged and leaned back in his chair, listening to the low whispering of cars on the highway a mile or so away. _"At least we didn't really go to Hell_," he thought with relief to himself, "_Still, would be nice to know if we made it out,"_ he closed his eyes, wondering if the dream would in fact continue, _"Would be nice if we actually did save the world. But it's only a dream..." _

Suddenly there was a loud barking from outside the manor house. Elwood shot up in his chair. "Nah, couldn't be," he mused out loud. Rising up softly, not to wake the still sleeping Jake, he bustled towards the front window and glanced out...

Just as a German shepherd wearing what looked like a torn Blues Brothers' outfit leaped up into sight and barked in the window. Elwood jumped back in surprise. "It...it was only a dream," he mumbled out loud, "Wasn't it...?"

THE END...?


End file.
